Chapter Thirteen
“Fight Club. Boss. Hey, Cole.”
Carson snapped her fingers twice.
Shooting up straight, he turned her way, watching her scowl warp into a worried stare.
“Yes. Sorry. What were you saying?”
She tucked her chin in, fists on her hips. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Covertly, he checked his phone. It was almost five. Kenzie still hadn’t called. He’d been able to convince himself she’d slept through the morning, but by the time noon hit, he brain was in overdrive. He shouldn’t have left without saying good-bye this morning. She could have been mad about that. Or sick from drinking too much. Or regretting what they’d done.
She might have been in trouble.
He’d texted her a few times, and called once, but she hadn’t answered. Again, he thought of the strange visitor yesterday—Sean Connell. He didn’t like not knowing where Kenzie was.
She wasn’t the only person he’d called. He’d dialed Elaina as well. It went straight to voice mail, like always, and he left the same message he’d left every other week for the past two months.
It’s Cole. Call me already. He left the new number again, just in case she’d missed it last time.
He wondered if she was hiding, a fact that made the existing worry knot in his gut. The Irish could be after her, too—Lynch, the man his father had mentioned. He hoped that wasn’t the case; that Elaina really was hiding, or pulling one of her usual off-the-radar stunts.
“Just thinking,” he told Carson. “A lot on my mind.”
It had been a productive day. Things with the restaurant were moving forward. They’d chosen a designer and gone over a theme. Carson had immediately taken to Kenzie’s idea for a slower, homier feel, and for the first time since he’d taken over this venture he actually felt like he had a sense of direction.
He couldn’t be less excited.
This was Kenzie’s idea. She’d looked at him and seen the kind of guy he was and set him on a course he hadn’t been able to chart alone.
Every step they came closer to finishing this place meant one more closer to sending her home. That is, if his father was actually arranging the meeting like he’d agreed. And Lynch would actually listen to his offers like his people had suggested.
He’d known for a fact by the time he’d laid beside Kenzie in bed there was no going back. He would make whatever deal happen that he needed to in order to secure her and Marsi’s safety.
“It’s coming together, boss, don’t worry.” Carson rolled her shoulders back, gaze moving to the open floor. Soon the furniture would be moved in—mismatching kitchen tables with brightly colored chairs. There’d be tablecloths that kids could draw on and family photos up on the walls. It wasn’t the kind of home he’d had, but the kind he wanted. Despite what this place might turn into, he wished Kenzie could see it. He wanted to tell her about it. To get her opinion on the choices he’d made today.
“Still needs a lot of work,” said Cole.
She snorted. “Something tells me that doesn’t bother you.”
He’d always been a hard worker. Focused. Once he had a task, he followed through. Maybe at first that had been to try to prove his worth to his father, but now it was just a part of who he was.
“It doesn’t,” Cole said quietly. He’d worked for everything in his life, even Rare, something he’d supposedly been given. He’d earned everything, and now he was going to hand it all over.
If Lynch agreed to make a deal, Cole would become a criminal, and even if it was for the right reason, the idea disgusted him. He wondered if once upon a time August hadn’t actually been a decent person, too, but that life choices like these had hardened him.
“Look, boss.” Carson picked at her fingernails. “I know this is bad timing, but Max is sick. He’s fine with the sitter, but . . .”
The question hung between them.
“He wants his mom,” Cole finished.
She exhaled, shoulders falling. It was obvious she hadn’t been looking forward to bringing this up, and he couldn’t help but feel responsible for that.
Kenzie’s words whispered from the back of his mind: I think kids should only be with parents who really love them.
He may have to do the kinds of things his father did, but that didn’t mean he had to be like his father. Max was damn lucky to have a mom who wanted to be with him when he was sick. Cole knew too well what it was like not to have that.
“You should go,” he said. “Tell Max I hope he feels better.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” Cole said. “And next time I tell you to get a sitter when your son needs you, tell me to stop being an asshole.”
She snorted. “I’m going to remember you said that, Fight Club.”
“For God’s sake, stop calling me that,” he told her. His bruises were still there, but the swelling was down at least. She still hadn’t pressed him to say how he’d gotten them.
“Yes, sir.” She gave him a salute, then headed toward the door. “Oh, one more thing.”
She came back toward him, digging through the giant purse slung over her shoulder. “I got that petty cash you wanted. What’s it for?”
The muscles between his shoulders clenched, adding to the tension that had been riding there all day.
“A down payment for the print shop,” he said quickly, taking the large stack of bills. They folded into a horseshoe shape and made a lump in his pocket. “Menus and other stuff.” He trailed off.
“Menus,” she repeated suspiciously. “I thought you already did a purchase order for that.”
“Oh,” he fumbled. “They’re printing some posters. Ads.” He was the world’s worst liar. How that was possible, being raised in a house with his father, he’d never know.
“Whatever you say,” Carson told him, heading toward the door. Whether or not she believed his story, she didn’t seem to care.
Borrowing from his own restaurant wasn’t the smartest decision at this stage of the game, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He had people to pay, to bribe, in order to keep his father safe, and the buyer still hadn’t been able to put together a cash offer. As much as he wanted to ignore the agreement with his father, Cole wasn’t willing to risk the consequences. What would happen if August wanted to punish him, the way he’d punished Marsi in Reno? There was a reason Elaina was hiding, and Cole wasn’t going to risk Kenzie’s safety by pissing off his dear old dad.
That didn’t mean he felt good about it.
He’d found Bellows on the department of corrections’ website yesterday, and it hadn’t been difficult tracking down his family online from there. They lived in an apartment in Henderson, the neighboring city, just a half hour away. As much as he wanted to go back to Kenzie, he needed to do this first.
Pushing out the front door, he automatically glanced around the street, looking for anything out of the ordinary before locking up and heading toward his car, parked in an alley around the corner.
His new phone began buzzing in his pocket before he reached his Camry. Hurriedly, he retrieved it from his pocket, hoping to find Kenzie’s number flashing on his screen. Instead it was another he didn’t recognize, with an area code he remembered as Ohio.
“Hello?”
“Cole.”
Cole slid into the front seat, muscles tensing.
“Garrett?”
“What the hell is going on over there? I thought I made it pretty clear that you needed to look out for my sister.”
“What?” A chill slid down his spine. “What are you talking about?”
“She called me. She’s heading down the Strip.”
“She what?”
He turned on the ignition, pulled out onto the street. Behind him he was vaguely aware of a car laying on the horn.
“Someone showed up at your hotel room. A woman. Who the fuck had a key to your room, Cole?” Garrett’s tone had dropped, making Cole’s foot press harder on the gas.
“No one.” Their key had come directly from the front desk. “Maintenance maybe, but they’re should have called me if they had to get in.”
“Well someone got in.”
“Who? Did she say who it was?”
“No.”
“Is she hurt?”
Garrett hesitated. “No. I don’t know. She’s spooked. I could hear it in her voice.”
Cole didn’t know why she hadn’t called him—if there was a problem he would have been there. He could have helped her.
“What did this woman want?” There was too much missing information. Cole couldn’t piece together a picture of what had made Kenzie run.
“I don’t know. Her phone was going in and out. I lost her a half hour ago. I’ve been calling, but she’s not picking up.”
Thirty minutes Kenzie had been off the radar. A lot could happen in thirty minutes. A woman could be killed. A restaurant could be burned to the ground.
“She thinks a woman’s on her tail, Cole.”
Breezing through a red light, Cole turned down Las Vegas Boulevard. As usual, the traffic was at a standstill. He swerved around a neon pink tour bus, heading toward the heart of Sin City.
“What does that mean, in and out? Bad reception?” The phone was cheap, but it wasn’t terrible. She should have gotten cell service anywhere outside.
“She ducked into some parking garage. The Bellagio, I think. That’s the last place she mentioned.”
He imagined her in a parking garage, hiding behind a car while the men who’d jumped him in Ambrose hunted her. She should have stayed out in public, in a crowd.
“You’re sure she said it was a woman? Not the guys we ran into before?”
“She said a woman.” Garrett groaned. “But she can’t come home right now,” Garrett said. “This thing with insurance, it’s not good.” His voice had changed. It was as if he was admitting something private, and terrible.
“What thing?” asked Cole.
“The insurance guy thinks Kenzie did it. She burned down the diner. And since she’s not going to rat anyone out, she’s got no proof otherwise.”
Cole’s blood turned cold. “Does she know?”
“She knows it’s not good.”
Why hadn’t she told him this? It was one thing to keep the wrong people off his heels, another entirely to lose her family’s livelihood. She could go to jail for burning down her own place just to get the insurance money.
“I’ll call her insurance,” Cole said. “Tell him I was there. I’ll fix this.”
Cole slammed on the brakes before he hit a jaywalking pedestrian. The sun was already going down. It would have been hard to find her in these crowds during the day. At night it would be nearly impossible.
“If you can’t,” said Garrett, “I don’t want her coming back. She’s not going to jail for this, understand?” The concern in his voice was unmistakable.
Her brother would rather she hide, like Marsi, than go to jail. Cole got it—he didn’t want Kenzie in jail, either—but there had to be another way.
“I understand.”
“Call me when you find her.”
“I will.”
Cole hung up, seeing the Bellagio’s massive fountain display a half mile in the distance. When he dialed Kenzie’s number it went straight to voice mail.
“Where are you?” he said, pulling down a small street toward the hotel’s parking garage. His tires squealed as he stopped to snag a ticket from the automatic booth.
Rolling down the window, he searched every space between every car, making his way toward the third floor where he’d parked his car. Panic gripped his muscles with every rotation of the tires.
He passed a group of tourists in bright yellow Viva Las Vegas shirts, holding long plastic funnel drinks. Their boisterous shouts made him grip the wheel even tighter.
He found the Camry, and pulled into a spot across the way. Jogging over, he found the cab empty, and no sign of her anywhere near.
“Kenzie!” he called, voice booming off the low cement roof. He didn’t care who heard him. The time for caution had passed. “Kenzie!”
Nothing.
He ran down the row, searching between each car, trying, at the same time, to think who might have come to the suite. He checked his phone, intending to call the Aria, but his cheap cell didn’t get service in here, either. Reaching the stairs, he climbed to the next floor, making a lap around the spaces. Finding them empty.
He went another floor up.
He called her name. Running toward a group of girls dressed up for a bachelorette party, he asked if they’d seen someone matching her description. When they said no, he moved on to the next level.
She could’ve been inside the hotel. Walking on the Strip. In the hands of the men who’d burned down her restaurant.
“Come on, Kenzie,” he said, sweat dripping down his temples.
He reached the roof. Tried her cell again. Nothing.
As he looked out over the neighboring hotels, at the glowing lights that lit the darkening night, he was overwhelmed by how big it all was. How loud. Even here, removed from the Strip and high above the ground, he could hear shouts and laughter from below. It intensified the pounding in his brain.
This was a place to lose yourself, not a place to find someone.
At the far corner of the structure was another set of stairs, this one closer to the hotel entrance. He headed that direction, planning to search the lobby of the Bellagio next. If Kenzie had thought someone was after her she might have gone inside to shake her.
Pushing through the door, he nearly tripped on the person sitting on the top step. She jumped up as his knee collided with her shoulder, giving a yelp. Standing, she adjusted the duffle bag strap over her shoulder and swiped her forearm across her eyes.
Kenzie.
He sagged, lungs deflating as if punctured by a knife. For a moment he only stared at her. The black T-shirt that clung to her body. The jeans streaked with dust from the stairwell. Her dark eyes, swollen from tears.
She’d been crying, and right then it didn’t matter why, or what had happened. She was here. Safe. It wasn’t until then he’d realized just how much he’d feared she’d been hurt.
He reached for her, ready to pull her into his arms, but she jerked back. He wasn’t sure what to make of this.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. Her voice was shaking. Her gaze shot around the grimy stairwell.
“Garrett called me. He said you might be here. That a woman came to the hotel room.”
Her eyes pinched around the edges. “A friend of yours. Candi.”
Cole felt as if he’d missed a step walking down the stairs. What was Candi doing in Vegas? How did she know how to find him? He remembered her text, and then the three others that had followed. He’d ignored them, figuring this was another one of her games, hoping his silence conveyed that he wasn’t playing. This was stupid; he saw that now. He had no idea she’d be this motivated.
“She’s not a friend.”
Kenzie snorted. Cole took a step closer.
She stepped away.
“What did she want?” Cole asked carefully.
“What does she usually want from you, Cole?”
He stiffened, hating that he’d ever gotten involved with Candi. He could only imagine the things she must have told Kenzie in his absence.
“She had a key,” Kenzie whispered, hurt.
His chin shot up. “I don’t know how that happened, but I swear I’ll find out.”
Kenzie crossed her arms over her chest. “She was waiting for me in the lobby. I saw her near the entrance when I came downstairs. She followed me down the street, past the fountain.” Her eyes pinched closed.
“Where did she go?” He was excruciatingly aware of the passage of time. Kenzie was supposed to be hidden. Every minute she was out in the open was another minute she was exposed.
“I don’t know.” She hesitated. “What does she want from me?”
Cole swiped a hand over his jaw. “I don’t know.” He’d stopped trying to figure out that woman a long time ago.
“I can’t stay,” she said, and the fear in her voice fractured his heart. “It’s not safe here.”
After everything Kenzie had been through, everything she’d survived, of course she thought this. It didn’t matter what Candi had said. Kenzie had seen it as a threat, and so it was. She was out here, in the open, risking her life because of it.
He had to get her somewhere she felt safe. He had to show her he was safe.
He held out a hand. “Come with me.”
She eyed him warily.
“Whatever Candi wanted, it has nothing to do with you. Whatever she told you about us probably isn’t true. You can ask me anything about her, but right now, we need to get out of here.”
She looked at his hand.
“Trust me,” he said. “I won’t let you get hurt again.”
Slowly, she placed her hand in his. A small tilt of her chin was all the permission he needed.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
His mind ran through the possibilities as he led her down the stairs. Someone had seen her at the Aria, and even if that someone was his ex, Kenzie was no longer hidden there. He thought of what Garrett had said about the insurance man and the arson claim; that she couldn’t go home now anyway.
“A casino,” he said.
“This one?”
He shook his head, pulled her down the steps. She followed close behind, and when they hit the bottom floor, he inched open the door and made certain the area was clear before leading her out.
“Stay close,” he said. No sign of Candi or anyone else.
The garage was offset from the Strip, but it was a quick enough walk. Soon they were surrounded by people: couples, families, tourists who’d already had too much to drink. Women and men in little more than their underwear shoved calling cards into their open hands, tiny résumés outlining their services. Street performers played drums and sang and did magic tricks, much to the awe of the gathering crowds.
He would have paid any amount of money to get Kenzie out of the state.
Forget the Aria—he’d get his bag and check out later. The biggest crowd was for a street hypnotist outside the Paris hotel, so that was where they went. Cutting between a model of the Eiffel Tower and a hot air balloon lit blue with twinkling lights, they made a straight path for the lobby, where an arc of Venetian-style desks sat beneath ornate chandeliers.
“See anyone familiar?” he asked quietly as they approached a clerk who waved them over. He pictured the men from Ambrose—Jeremy, with that damn toothpick in his teeth, and the driver with his shaved head and tracksuit. Maybe they were back in New Jersey. Maybe not. He wondered again about Lynch, the man who’d made his father nervous. Kenzie had said she’d only seen Candi, but that didn’t mean other dangers didn’t exist. The threat on her life was real. They had to be vigilant.
Kenzie searched the area behind him, gripping his forearm in her other hand as she turned. She shook her head.
“May I help you, sir?” The clerk’s smile dimmed a little as they approached. Subtly, she gave them the once-over, undoubtedly measuring their worth by the quality of their clothes. With Kenzie in her T-shirt and jeans, and him in his casual shirt and slacks, they didn’t exactly look like high rollers.
He pulled Kenzie against his side, aware of the way her warm body curved into him, and how her fists gripped his shirt. He was operating on a different level now, gaze roaming, ready to fight.
No one would hurt her while he was around.
“I need a room.”
“Of course.”
The clerk typed into her computer, then lifted her flat gaze. “I’m sorry, all we have available is our professional suite.”
“Fine,” he said.
“It’s outfitted with a business station.”
He held up a hand, not needing her explanation. “We’ll take it.”
Her brows lifted.
“Sounds expensive,” Kenzie muttered.
He didn’t care.
“Name?”
“Jackson,” he said. “Peter.”
“All right, Mr. Jackson, that’ll be just a moment.” While she typed, he looked around the lobby. In an offshoot to the left would be the hotel’s main attraction—a cobblestone street lined with small shops and restaurants. He’d been there before, walking through with an old college friend for his bachelor party years ago. Now all he could focus on was getting Kenzie upstairs.
Reaching into his pocket, he unrolled a stack of bills, paying in full for the room. Both Kenzie and the clerk watched with wide eyes.
“Is there anything else I can get you?” asked the clerk, now definitely more animated. “Something brought to your room, perhaps? Champagne? The bar is stocked with a variety of spirits.”
“Just privacy,” said Cole.
“Of course.” She winked at Kenzie. “You’re in our VIP wing. I can assure that nothing will disturb you during your stay with us.”
• • •
They were escorted to a private elevator, guarded by a man with arms as big as Cole’s thighs, and sent to the eighteenth floor. Their room was at the end of a long hallway, but he scarcely noticed the decorative rugs on the floor or the framed photos of France on the walls. He was moving fast, counting the rooms until he got to theirs.
“Cole,” she said quietly, hurrying beside him.
He kept walking. They’d talk soon, but not yet.
“Cole, is that the money you were going to give them? Did you sell the Reno restaurant?”
She sounded afraid. He gave a quick shake of his head.
Finally, they reached the end of the hall. Inside, he locked the door and hung the safety latch, then searched the suite. Three rooms. The door opened into a living area facing floor-to-ceiling windows, the view of the Vegas suburbs stretching into the black night. Passing the bar and the white velvet furniture, he glanced inside the bedroom, where another chandelier hung over a king-sized bed, topped with a plush purple duvet. Beyond it, a door led into an open office, where a desk topped with a printer and wide-screened monitor lined the wall facing the window.
“Cole, what are we doing here?”
His head craned the direction of Kenzie’s voice. She stood in the threshold of the bedroom, pulling at the hem of her shirt. The paleness of her cheeks and the too-bright glint in her eye stopped him cold, and suddenly everything that had led them here came crashing through.
He had never felt so protective over anything in his entire life.
Tearing himself away, he stalked to the bedroom window, jerking the privacy curtains closed. Now that it was quiet, and they were alone, too many thoughts filled his head. Too many emotions dug their claws into his chest.
“I asked you a question,” she said when he edged past to close the curtains in the living room.
“We’re hiding,” he said bluntly.
Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed *67 to block his number, then called Candi.
She picked up on the last ring,
“Candi, it’s Cole.”
“Oh, hey, sugar. Figured I’d hear from you hours ago.” In the background, he could make out the jingle of slot machines. She was in a casino. Maybe the Bellagio. Maybe this one.
Behind him, he felt Kenzie go still. He hated making this call while she was here. He hated making it at all.
“How’d you get a key?” he asked Candi flatly.
“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” she answered.
“The key, Candi.” He didn’t ask how she knew he was in Vegas—even if he hadn’t told her specifically, word traveled among the staff at Rare. But he hadn’t told anyone where he was staying. If they needed him, they could email him—that’s what he’d told the manager of Rare after he’d dumped his cell out the window in Ohio.
“I didn’t mean to get you in trouble,” she said. “I didn’t know you had a little something on the side.”
Rage scratched to the surface, biting into the tone of his voice.
“Answer the question or I’m calling the police.”
“Oh, don’t get all Cole on me,” she said, and he imagined her pouty face and her sticky lip gloss. She was a beautiful woman but he couldn’t remember why he’d ever been attracted to her.
Yes, he did. Because she knew about his father and didn’t care. Because she knew he was a workaholic and wasn’t bothered—she didn’t want anything consistent from him, anyway. Because when she called, or walked in the door, she always acted like she liked him, at least for a little while.
“I heard you were working in Vegas from the staff,” she said. “I was coming to town for a girls’ weekend anyway, so I thought I’d surprise you. I came by the new property but you were busy, so I went to leave a message on your car and saw the Aria parking pass. Took a hot minute to figure out the name was under the girl you got working for you here, but once I got that the front desk made me a key. I told them I was your wife.” She snickered, then sighed, undoubtedly pleased with herself.
She was fired. As soon as he got back to Reno he was handling the paperwork. He’d kept her on only as a courtesy, careful not to let his personal feelings interfere with her position there, but now she’d crossed the line.
“I’m pretty sure this qualifies as stalking.”
“Don’t be rude, Cole. I was just trying to surprise you.”
“That doesn’t make it better,” he said. “Why’d you follow my friend?”
“Is that what she said?” Candi laughed. “I see why you like her. You’re both wound about as tight as they go.”
He waited.
“I didn’t follow her anywhere,” Candi said. “I told you. I came here for a girls’ weekend. We’re on the Strip. If that’s where she was heading, too bad. Vegas is big enough for both of us.”
Cole wasn’t completely convinced, but pressing her further may have given her reason to be suspicious. The last person he needed digging into Kenzie’s affairs was the former hostess at Rare.
“Candi, this is over. Don’t come back to the hotel room. I mean it.”
“Fine,” she said. “But I’m gonna remember this next time you’re lonely.”
His jaw flexed. There wouldn’t be a next time. There hadn’t been in months.
He hung up the phone, then turned toward the bar. But once he got there and placed his hand on a glass decanter filled with bourbon, he realized there was nothing he wanted less than alcohol.
“What’d she say?” Kenzie asked.
He turned to face her, knowing he owed her an explanation. Knowing it wouldn’t go well. A ball of heat had formed behind his ribs, burning him from the inside out. Every good thing he’d hoped for with Kenzie was slipping away.
She still held that damn bag, as if she might walk out the door at any moment.
“It was nothing,” Cole said. “She works at the Reno restaurant. She heard I was in Vegas and thought she’d pay me a visit.”
Kenzie frowned.
“She claims she didn’t follow you. She was heading here anyway.”
“Do you believe her?” The second question wasn’t said aloud, but he heard it all the same. Or do you believe me?
“I almost never believe her.” He straightened. “Candi and I aren’t together.”
“Don’t,” Kenzie said, holding up a hand. “That’s not what I asked. All I need to know is if she’s going to tell anyone she saw me.”
His anger had become hers, as if he’d transferred across the space between them. He could see it darken her cheeks, tighten her fists. It emptied him, leaving a hollowness beneath his skin.
“No,” said Cole. “It was just a badly timed coincidence.”
Kenzie’s arm dropped. “You really do have shitty luck, don’t you?”
Yes. But that was beside the point. He could feel Kenzie drawing away, erecting a wall between them. What fragile connection they’d built was quickly disintegrating.
“Candi and I never really dated,” he explained.
“It’s not my business.”
“Do you want it to be?”
She looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time since they’d come to the hotel room.
Maybe he should have poured that drink after all.
“I don’t know,” she said.
It was the thinnest olive branch that had ever existed, but he’d take it.
“After my sister left, she showed me the ropes at Rare. We had a relationship . . .” He hesitated. “If that’s what you can call it. She came over sometimes, only when she was bored. I . . . didn’t stop her.”
He couldn’t explain how much he’d needed someone during that time, even if they hadn’t needed him back.
Kenzie scoffed. “I bet you didn’t.”
His back rounded. “I asked her to dinner a few times. To do something else. She never wanted more. It had to be a secret, she told me. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. She didn’t want it to look like favoritism at work or something.” He scoffed. “She didn’t want anyone else to know.”
Kenzie’s arms fell. Her mouth made a small circle, the intake of breath enough to tighten every muscle down his spine.
“Cole, when I said—”
He waved a hand. It didn’t matter.
“I ended it six months ago. She seems to have forgotten that.”
He took a deep breath, the air in the room growing thick with all the things Kenzie wasn’t saying.
“I’m sorry she came over,” he added. “And that she followed you. That never should have happened.”
She gave a small nod.
He inhaled. Exhaled. Uncertainty clung to his every breath. Part of him wanted to leave it there, retreat back into the safety of his own private world. But if he did, she’d never know. If he’d talked to Marsi more, maybe things would have been different.
“I saw my father,” he said. “He’s in prison outside the city.”
Her brows lifted. If there was a time to lay it all out on the table, this was it. She’d run because she’d been scared, but she hadn’t gone to him because she hadn’t trusted him.
He hadn’t told her the truth because he hadn’t trusted her, either.
“When the men jumped me in Ambrose they said my father worked for their boss—sold drugs through his restaurant before I took it over.”
“Okay,” she said quietly.
“They told me they’d be willing to forgive what Marsi had done if I offered to make a deal with their boss. I told them I wouldn’t, because I’m an idiot.”
“No,” she said. “You’re not an idiot.”
He moved closer, to a chair, gripping the back of it with both hands.
“I am. Because I didn’t realize how serious this was until that night. If I’d have made a deal then, you would still be in Ambrose. You’d still have your restaurant. None of this would have happened.”
“Cole.”
“I can’t let this go on,” he said. “I asked my father to set up a meeting with the man he used to work for—who those two guys from Ambrose still work for. His name is Lynch. When that happens, I’ll go wherever he is, and offer up the cash I can get for Rare.”
“Cole.”
He held up a hand to stop her. “And if that doesn’t work, I’m going to make the same deal my dad did. I’m going to tell him he can use the new restaurant here to move his product through. That’s why I’ve been getting it ready. That’s why I’ve been there, so I can be visible. So they’ll know where to find me.”
“What?” She covered her mouth with one hand, then lowered it. “Cole, this is crazy.”
“I know,” he said. “But it’s all I’ve got. I don’t know what else to do.”
“You should have told me. You should have asked me what I thought.” Her voice was shaking, and it made his chest feel like it was caving in on itself. “I could have helped you. Cassie and Jake and Garrett—we could have helped you.”
He shook his head. “I’m the one who has what they want.”
“Cassie was going to try to contact Elaina,” said Kenzie. “She said she might be able to do something.”
“And put her in more danger? No,” said Cole. “I haven’t seen Elaina in months. She’s probably hiding, too.”
Kenzie wrung her hands together. He could see she was trembling and he wanted, more than anything, to go to her, but he couldn’t. He was the reason she was afraid now.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
“You were supposed to leave, anyway.” The terror was still there from Garrett’s call—cold, and leeching around his spine. When she was missing, it felt like when Marsi had gone missing all over again. All the questions were back, the guilt and the blame, unending cycles in his head.
“It was better that you didn’t know. You’d be safer if you didn’t know. No one could question you about it. No one would hurt you anymore.”
She took a step closer to him. He didn’t move.
“Why are you telling me now?”
He squeezed the back of the chair even harder, until his knuckles turned white.
“When you left the Aria I thought something had happened. When Garrett said someone had broken in . . .” He shook his head, letting his head fall forward. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt—especially because of me. I kept thinking that maybe if I’d told you, things would be different.” He looked up at her. “My sister left me in the dark for two years, and I tried to do the same thing to you.”
She straightened. “You didn’t give me a chance to trust you.”
“No,” he said. “And I’m sorry for that.”
“Okay.”
He turned to busy his hands with a drink, trying not to overthink her simple answer. Trying to believe Candi’s arrival hadn’t made it easy for her to dismiss what had happened between them last night. Just trying to keep his shit together.
He’d told her more than he had told anyone. It probably didn’t mean a lot to someone like her, but it did to him.
“When is the meeting with this Lynch guy?” she asked. “And where? Here in Vegas? Or somewhere else?”
“I don’t know yet.”
She was quiet a moment.
“They don’t know I’m here? Only that woman? Candi?”
He turned back toward her, wondering where this was going.
“No one else knows.”
“You have to make sure the guys who work with Lynch are there—the ones who burned down the diner.”
He felt his gaze narrow. “Why?”
“You set the meeting. I’ll call the cops,” she said, her words confident, but her tone bright with fear. “They can’t all be bad. I’ll tell them I’m worried my boyfriend is in trouble, and he went to talk to some bad people. They’ll go check it out, but instead of you being there, they’ll find Lynch and his friends.”
Cole considered this a moment. “What if Lynch realizes we’re in on it and escapes?”
“Then we’re in the same boat we are now.”
“But I won’t have the restaurant or the money to put up in exchange for you and Marsi’s safety.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are too goddamn honest, Cole Talent.”
He scowled. “What’s the supposed to mean?”
“You think even if you make a deal they’re going to leave us alone? Best-case scenario, they do for a little while, but sooner or later you’ll make a mistake or piss them off, and they’ll use it as an excuse to teach you a lesson. They’ll go for the people they know can hurt you—your sisters and me. And then the cops really won’t be able to help you because you’ll already be a criminal.”
He balked. And then exhaled in a hard breath.
“You’re right.”
“Of course I’m right,” she said. “If you would’ve given me a chance, I could’ve told you that days ago.”
He supposed he had that coming.
“You may think you’re alone, but you’re not,” she said.
It shook him. Like someone had torn away the rug beneath his feet. He’d been alone for two years. Even before then, beneath the great shadow of August Talent. It was the way it was, and he’d come to accept it as reality. But then he’d met Kenzie, and for the first time he’d felt truly seen.
“I’m with you,” she said.
He didn’t know how to respond, or the depth of what this meant. Her dark eyes were round and steady now. Her perfect mouth set in a firm, determined line.
“Cole,” she said, more fiercely now. “I’m with you, you understand?”
The carpet creaked quietly beneath her steps. He didn’t know what to expect, but when her arms came around his waist, and her cheek rested against his chest, he closed his eyes and gripped her against him.
His throat was too tied in knots to say a single word. This wasn’t what he’d expected—he hadn’t known what to expect. Not that she’d stay. Not that she’d choose him, even after everything that had happened.
The tenseness in the base of his neck relaxed, one increment at a time.
“You’re not my secret, by the way,” she added. “I already told your sister about us.”
She pulled away, leaving a warm imprint of her body against his chest and hope kindling in his heart as she retreated into the bedroom.