OF ALL THE NIGHTS FOR London’s demons to rear their ugly head.
As if I didn’t have enough on my plate with a sadistic drug runner staying under my roof, a captive girl stashed away in my dungeon, and a house full of unsuspecting clients, I now have to deal with Daddy Dearest.
London and I backtrack through the house with her shaking like a leaf the whole time.
I find a very agitated Kayne and a counseling Alistair tucked in a corner right outside the kitchen.
Before Kayne even has a chance to rip me a new one, I cut him off. “We have a situation.”
“No shit, Sherlock! Your little pet here just caused a scene, and now there are two very pissed-off men stashed in my office demanding to see her.”
“Two?” London nearly jumps out of her skin. I tug her close. “He’s here,” she whispers petrified.
I squeeze her hand.
First things first. “Where is Javier?”
“Occupied. Upstairs with Spice,” Alistair informs me. I suppress my wince. It was inevitable. But just the thought of him being with one of my girls ties my stomach in knots.
“Is the other situation still under control?” I ask Kayne cryptically.
He nods stoically.
“Good. Alistair, stay in the party room and keep up appearances. It’s just another typical night. Got it?”
“Of course.” My uncle always has my back.
“Kayne, come with me. I think I’m going to need some extra muscle.”
The four of us separate, each going our designated ways.
“Are you going to clue me in to what’s going on?” Kayne stalks beside me.
“Yes.” I stop in front a large antique vase displayed on a shelf in the hallway leading to Kayne’s office. I reach in and retrieve two sheathed hunting knives. One I hand to Kayne, the other I stash on London.
“You stay right behind me, understand?” I slip the blade into her leather corset, right between her breasts. Her eyes are as wide as satellites as she watches me.
“You keep weapons in your antiques?” she asks dryly.
“Yes.” I look directly at her face. There is so much she doesn’t know about me. About this house. One day I hope to tell her everything, but tonight my secrets will stay buried within these walls.
“I am going to try and bargain for you. A smart businessman never walks away from a lucrative deal. But if it doesn’t work, I’m willing to turn to violence.” I lean in so only she can hear. “For you, I will kill.”
London stands petrified before me. I don’t know how that statement affected her, but I hope she understands its depths. I hope she understands how much I fucking care. About her. About us. About what we could potentially have. How I will do anything to keep her by my side. “If I go like this behind my back,” I curl my finger in a give me motion, “hand me the knife. Don’t hesitate. Understand?”
She nods vacantly.
“Say it. Say you understand.”
“I understand.” Her voice is hoarse.
“Good.” I glance at Kayne, and he thrusts his chin in agreement. In acceptance. As a brother in arms. Alistair may be related to me by blood, but Kayne is related by loyalty.
Behind Kayne’s massive mahogany office door are two men, both immaculately dressed, and both with cold, calculating eyes. I survey them one at a time, pegging London’s father immediately. He has her dark blue eyes and straight thin nose. He’s much smaller in person, though. Five-seven at best. I’ve seen images of him on TV, and his real life persona does not live up. His egotism must make up for all the things he’s lacking.
When Kayne strides by Easton, he makes him look like a dwarf, which I find highly satisfying.
The other man I assume is Silas. He’s older as well, with thin, oily hair, a crater face, and a wannabe gangster pinstripe suit.
The thought of him ever having his greasy hands on London disgusts me.
“I see you found my property.” Easton gets right down to it.
“Let’s get one thing straight. She’s no one’s property,” I correct him condescendingly.
“That’s where you’re wrong, son. I’ve owned her since the day she was born. And her little disappearing act cost me a shitload of money.” He stares London down.
“How much?” I question haughtily. “Let’s even it up right now. I’ll write you a check, and you can go on your merry way.”
Easton laughs obnoxiously.
“I’m sure she was profitable for your little business, but that workhorse has a lot of good years left. I’m not selling.” He takes a step forward, and the tension skyrockets in the room. “Let me make this real clear,” Easton addresses me coolly. “I’m leaving, with her, tonight. No discussions. No negotiations.” Napoleon’s got some balls. “Now, either we can do this the easy way, and you hand her over, or the bloody way, and I can just take her. Either or, I’m collecting what’s mine.”
I guard London as Easton dishes out his ultimatums. It all sounds like blah blah-blah blah blah blah-blah blah to me.
He can threaten all he likes. Pull a gun, throw a knife. Bottom line, the only way he’s leaving here with London is if he’s in a body bag. Which is somewhere I am more than happy to put him.
“I’m not yours,” London suddenly growls.
There’s no time for a response after that because all hell suddenly breaks loose. London pounces out from behind me and nails Easton right in the chest with the knife I gave her.
“I’m not yours!” she shrieks insanely as she plunges the blade all the way into his heart. At the same erupting moment, Kayne mows down Silas, stabbing him in the neck a split second before he pulls out his gun. Blood spurts out everywhere from the rip in his jugular vein as Kayne viciously slits his throat open. I’m trapped in a momentary time lapse, torn between which direction I should go.
“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” London’s distraught screams yank me to her. “I’m not yours!” She stabs him over and over again. “I’m not fucking yours!” Blood is smeared all over her fists and splattered across her face and chest. I attempt to pull her away, but her adrenaline is pumping too hard. She’s imprisoned in the moment.
“Die!” She stabs him one last time and literally twists the knife. Then she collapses, a dazed look in her distraught eyes.
Kayne and I share the same dumbstruck expression as I attempt to pull her into my arms.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s all okay.” London comes to me slowly, warily. Like she doesn’t know who I am. Like she doesn’t even know who she is.
She’s in shock.
Once she’s sure she’s secure in my embrace, she nuzzles her head against my chest and lets it all go. She sobs so hard she shakes us both. Loud, anguished, afflicted sounds tearing from her throat. Never have I sensed so much pain. It’s so powerful I can almost carry it with me. I would gladly take it all if it meant she would finally be free.
“Shhh.” I rock her until she’s calm. Until the agonizing moans stop and she becomes a zombie in my arms.
I look up at Kayne who’s standing over two dead, bloody bodies, heaving like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. The wood floor flooding with red the longer the two corpses lay there.
“We need a cleanup in aisle three,” he says wryly.
Ya think? I fixate my attention on one of the hidden cameras in the corner of the office. I know Juice just saw everything and is cursing his head off right now. So much for no more messes. Oops.
We have a protocol for situations like these, which we’ve never had to deploy until now.
“Text Alistair. Get him in here,” I order Kayne with a paralyzed London still in my grasp.
I don’t think more than fifteen heartbeats pass before Alistair slips into the room. His facial expression says it all. “Holy fuck.”
“I need you to take her,” I bark at him. “Take her out to the pool house and wait for me. Use one of the back entrances so no one sees.”
Alistair hesitates for a second before prying London out of my arms.
“Jesus Christ, did she kill someone?” He notes the blood all over her face and body.
“Do you really want to know the answer to that?” I challenge.
His skin pales as he makes his conclusion.
Trust me, no one is more shocked by her actions than I am. My sexy, fierce little bird is a badass.
Mansion is full of service entrances and old staff corridors, so sneaking around can be easy as long as you know the ins and outs. It’s part of the reason Kayne and I chose this place. Plenty of escape routes, if needed. And tonight, it’s paying off tenfold.
Alistair guides London out of the alternate entrance of the office, leaving me with minimal time to handle what I need to.
“Are you good waiting for the crew?” I ask Kayne.
“I’m good. Just bring me a change of clothes.”
I nod. Fresh clothing is number one on my list for everyone. Time is of the essence. I need Alistair back monitoring the party room before anything else goes wrong.
I disappear up a back staircase and race around my room grabbing T-shirts and shorts for both London and me. Kayne is way too large to fit into anything of mine, so I grab clothes for him and Alistair out of his closet. Hopefully, no one will notice their wardrobe change.
Right before I vanish back down the stairwell, I hear a scream. And not a pleasurable one. My stomach drops. I know where it’s coming from. Javier’s room. And I know what he’s doing. Abusing the shit out of Spice. If it was any other night and he was any other man, I would kick the door down and toss his ass out of my house. But I can’t. Because this isn’t just any other night and he isn’t just any other man. He’s a devil with an open invite to stay.
I swallow my searing anger as I’m shrouded in darkness. I’ll tend to Spice tomorrow. Tonight, London is my sole focus.
I toss Kayne’s clothes on his desk and send him to wash off in the en-suite bathroom attached to the gargantuan office. He emerges from the bathroom in just his underwear, the soiled clothes crumpled in the garbage can. I strip down in the bathroom as well, washing Easton’s dried blood from my hands, neck, and chin. Quickly, I dress in the fresh shirt and gym shorts, tossing the bloody evidence in the full trash can.
“You okay with me leaving you with all this?” I motion to the massacre on the floor.
“I’m fine. Go. The crew should be here any minute. I’ll hold things down.” Composed, even sentences flow out of Kayne’s mouth, but the worry is apparent in his eyes. We’re spinning way too many dangerous dishes at once, and one slip could mean a catastrophic crash.
“She’s fine,” I try to assure him. “No one knows where she is. She’s probably the safest person in the whole house.”
Kayne grimaces, incredulously.
I place my hand on his shoulder. “You know where I’ll be if you need me.”
“I’ll be fine.” He urges me to go. “London needs you. More than anyone.”
“We’re in the same boat, my friend.”
“That we are.” He crosses his arms authoritatively. Ellie’s safety is the most important thing on his mind.
I leave Kayne behind with the mess. Using the shadows to shield me, I make my way across the backyard and around the pool to the miniature house set off to the side of the property. It’s about as extravagant as the inside of the mansion, outfitted with an entire wall of French doors overlooking the blue pool water, a full country kitchen, cork floors, and a lavish white bedroom. Two people could live out here comfortably.
I sneak through the dark house toward the back bedroom. When I crack open the door, I pause, listening to the conversation taking place.
London is seated on the edge of the bed with Alistair kneeling in front of her. Her gaze is lost, someplace far off as she rambles.
“You remind me of a monster I once knew. He used to keep me locked in a cage. He called me his pet. He liked to see me cry. And liked to hear me scream. His favorite thing to do was rape me over the sink while holding my head under water.” She tries to vacantly touch his face, and he spooks like a cat. Very unlike Alistair, but hearing her hair-raising accounts could haunt a friggin’ ghost.
“Enough,” I announce my presence. Alistair scrambles to his feet and backs away from London.
“She needs a shower and sleep. And probably years of therapy,” Alistair advises, unnerved.
“I think we’re all going to need therapy after this.” I toss the fresh pair of clothes I brought him on one of the wicker chairs. “Go wash off and change. Leave your dirty shirt and pants behind. I need you back at the social ASAP.”
Alistair doesn’t waste a minute. He’s clean and changed in record time. “I’ll text you when the house clears out.” He’s itching to leave.
“My phone is on,” I inform him with my eyes glued to London. “Don’t let anyone see you,” I remind him.
“As stealthy as a ninja.”
A moment later, we’re alone.
“Hey, c’mon.” I take London’s hand and gently guide her to stand. She does so without any arguments or objections, still completely zombified.
I direct her into the small adjoining bathroom and turn on the shower. I test the water until it’s the perfect temperature before I strip out of my clothes and then strip London out of hers. I toss her bloody corset in the corner along with the items Alistair left behind. When she’s asleep, I’ll burn everything in the fire pit outside.
London barely registers what I’m doing as she stares off into space. I wish I could reach her—pull her back, bring her to me—but I know recovering from such a traumatic event is going to take time.
I place her under the hot spray, soaking her body and hair all at the same time. Red mixes with the clear water as it escapes down the drain. See, little bird? Your vile past is washing away.
Giving her the silence she needs, I lather up her hair with lemon-scented shampoo and coat every inch of her body with the suds. It’s my version of a baptism. A cleansing. Tonight is a new beginning.
“I’m right here with you, London. You aren’t alone.” I gently rinse the soap from her body, hoping my touch and my voice console and soothe and heal her.
After a little coaxing, we finally make eye contact as we stand under the shower. There’s an inkling of life sparking in her flat blue eyes. She touches my chest, and I place my hand over hers. She sways on her feet, then steadies herself. Her bottom lip is pouty, and her cheeks are redder than strawberries, but I know she’s coming around.
“Is he really dead?” she croaks.
“Yes, my little bird, you finally killed your demon.”
That pouty lip quivers, and I know another bout of waterworks is on its way.
“What’s going to happen to me now? I killed him.” The dam bursts.
I yank her into my arms and smother her in my embrace.
“Nothing. No one will ever know. I promise I’ll protect you.”
“How?” She sobs inconsolably. I never realized that one human being could produce so many tears.
“Trust me.” I ask for the same thing I’ve been asking for all along.
“That’s so hard to do,” she confesses.
“I know. But you have to be brave and trust me now.” I take her face and force her to look at me. “You have to finally let me in.”
“I let you in the first day I met you,” she astonishingly comes clean.
“I let you in the first second I saw you.” I press my mouth firmly to hers, sucking gently on her puffy lips. “I’ll protect you,” I vow, resting my forehead against hers. “Please just let me protect you. You’ll never have to hide again. You’ll finally be able to fly.”
London breaks down, hooking her arms under mine, and just holds on.
I hug her until she can barely stand. Until the weight of the night finally takes its toll. There is so much I want to confess. So much I want to profess.
But now isn’t the time to be spewing emotional rhetoric. She’s not ready to hear it, and I’m not ready for my feelings to fall on deaf ears. Tonight, it’s all about show don’t tell. My actions will speak for me. Of that I’m certain.
I wrap London in a towel and then myself. It’s so quiet in the house, I can hear London breathing from across the room. I pull down the bedding, dry us both as best I can, then put her to bed without even bothering to dress her. It’s flesh on flesh tonight. Body heat, cool sheets, and an unrestricted connection.
I climb in after her, situating her next to me, side by side, limbs mingled, head on my chest. Her tears continue to flow down her cheeks in a fluid path, leaking years of heartache.
She can cry all night, all month, all year. I won’t let go until she’s shed every last painful drop.
“I’m so tired,” she whimpers weakly against me.
“Go to sleep,” I hum, hoping the melodic tone of my voice will help her drift off. “I’ll be right here to love you in the morning.”
A little whine escapes from her and then there’s nothing. No salty fluid or shaky breaths, just peace.