Chapter One
Luke
“Only by confronting your inner demons can you ever hope to conquer them.” —Ellen Hopkins
With every step we take about placing critical distance between us and the phone I just chunked in a dumpster, and therefore the enemy hunting us. I hold onto Ana’s hand, aware of Darius’s blood covering her, just as I am the fact that she was too close to that traitorous prick when he was shot. It could have been her. She could be dead right now, and I’m all kinds of kicking myself for allowing her to meet him and especially behind that damn store. I would die for this woman a million times over and yet I allowed her to risk her life tonight. I didn’t find her, save her, and kiss her back into my life to see her die.
What the hell was I thinking?
She might be capable of kicking most men’s asses, but she can die as easily as every other flesh and blood human. I should have stood in the way. I should have just tied her to a damn bed, fucked her for twenty-four hours, and let Savage and Adam deal with Darius. If only I could turn back time and erase my stupidity.
Right now, my stupidity aside, I need to get her to safety, but with Darius’s blood all over her, we’re limited as to where we go until we deal with it. In other words, my first choice—melting into a crowd, where there is safety in numbers, and in the presence of cameras—is not an option. We’re left with the path of least resistance—the one that won’t have people gaping, favoring the shadows and back alleyways, which is not the fastest, or by far the most public. For now, we’re in the business district of downtown Denver, where daytime brings with it the hustle and bustle of evening, and the sunset transforms it into a ghost town.
A place where anyone who moves is an easy target. A place where I once again have to allow her to be a target.
Men like the one who killed Jake and threatened Ana, devour fools who allow themselves to be easy marks. He’s going to hope we’re fools and send a team in this direction. He’s the one acting a fool by thinking for one second I’d work for him. Since I already know he’s not a fool, that leaves only one other option. He’s a desperate fuck, desperate to please the real boss. Someone is pulling his chain and hard.
Right now, I focus on a homeless man lying on the ground, buried in blankets, seemingly passed out. There’s a bottle of water sitting next to him I trade for a twenty-dollar bill and keep walking. A few blocks later, and only when I’m certain we aren’t being followed, I lead Ana toward a high-rise building. Once we’re there, we shelter behind a concrete wall framing a dock area and another dumpster, illuminated by a street light.
Ana doesn’t ask why we stopped here or why I chose this location. She knows and gets busy cleaning up, starting with her jacket. She shrugs out of it and tosses it into the trash, then pulls the beanie from her head, allowing her hair to tumble about her shoulders. The hat is black, a dark shade that hides the blood we both know is there. You don’t stand next to a man who takes a bullet and walk away nice and clean.
“How covered am I?” she asks, a weak tremble in her voice that speaks to that human side of her I both fear and love. Darius might have betrayed her, but he was in her life for ten years and she considered him a friend. That feeling of loss and betrayal is an all too familiar blast of emotion I learned even before Ana and I split. It’s nothing I ever wanted her to feel, and yet, I know I left. I changed my number. I made her feel those things as well.
Shoving aside emotions neither of us can afford to feel right now, I focus on her question and give her all-black attire a once-over. “Your jacket absorbed most of the noticeable damage.” My lips press together. “And your face.”
“Of course it did,” she says tightly, lifting her chin to present her face for cleanup.
On some level, this moment represents more than necessity. It’s about inherent trust and intimacy. It’s about us and all the ways we’ve been bloodied up by the past and the present. I open the bottle of water and pour some on the hat before I start cleaning her up, working to remove the battle scars, as I prefer to think of Darius’s blood, right now.
“Was it the same guy who killed Jake on the phone?”
“It was.”
“And you promised him what?”
“He threatened to kill people if I don’t bring him the package.” I toss the bottle and the hat in the trash with her jacket. “I told him I don’t give two fucks who he kills and that I only work for money.” Some part of me waits for her to believe this is the real me, and damn it, I’m once again transported to the past, to the day I had to tell her I killed Kasey. I’d arrived to her place and Trevor had beaten me there, lying to her, telling her I was dirty, not Kasey. That I was a killer.
“You killed him?” she’d demanded. “You killed Kasey?”
When I’d tried to make her see that I’d had no choice, I’d failed.
“I never understood how love could turn to hate,” she’d hissed. “Now I do.” She’d moved her hand from behind her back and pressed her gun into my belly. “Why? Why would you do this to me? He was my brother.”
But the present plays out nothing like the past. Ana doesn’t assume the worst of me. Maybe she never did. Maybe that day we collided in our first moments together since I killed Kasey was nothing but a creation of Trevor and my own guilt because Ana immediately, says, “You were trying to remove the leverage he holds over you.”
“That’s right,” I say. “And he said yes.”
“He’s desperate,” she assumes. “He’s not in charge or in control.”
“Exactly my thought,” I say, but I leave it at that, at least for now.
My sole concern at present is how much blood I just cleaned off of her face. She was standing right there next to Darius when he was shot. She was too fucking close to him for comfort and I let that happen. Aware that there’s no way I didn’t miss some of the mess on her, I slide out of the lightweight black windbreaker I’m wearing and slip it around her shoulders. She reacts instinctively, all business as she pokes her arms into the sleeves, the material swallowing her hands, and immediately attempts to roll the material.
I take over, quickly adjusting the arm length to wrist level. When her hands are free, and the jacket looks appropriate to her size, I catch her waist under her jacket and lean into her.
“That was too damn close.”
“In a number of ways,” she agrees, obviously referencing her friendship with Darius. “He was supposed to be my friend.”
The way I was supposed to be the one person she counted on above all others. Darius was just one more person to let her down. I won’t do that again. “You need to know that I will not let that happen again. I don’t care if I make you hate me all over again, I will protect you at all costs. Do you understand me?”
She pulls back, her eyes burning amber in the glint of the dim light. “No,” she says tightly. “I do not understand. What’s your plan? To follow me around and keep me from doing my job? I’ve worn a badge since before we met, and that’s not going to change. You can’t protect me. I don’t want you to protect me.”
“What do you want, Ana?”
Her lips press together. “Not to be protected. And too much, apparently. We’ve been in one place too long. We need to go. Do you understand?”
I want to know what “too much” means, but damn it, she’s not wrong. We can’t hang out on the street, not if we want to live through the night. “We’re not done with this conversation.”
“You might not be, but I am.” She tries to step out of my grip.
I hold her to me, cup her face, and kiss her hard and fast. “I’m not. I’m not done with anything to do with you. Not now and not ever.”
“Okay, that statement contradicts the past two years and makes me angry.” She tries to knee me, and I catch her leg. Undeterred, she adds, “And I’m not done with this conversation either.”
My lips curving with how easily I drew her into battle, how easily I’ve always drawn her into battle. It feels like us and I do fucking love us. I want to push her harder. I want to kiss her harder. Instead, I release her and for just a beat we stare at each other, the air ignited with conflict. She turns on her heels and starts walking. I let her go, but not too far. I fall into step beside her. Not behind her. Not in front of her. Beside her, where I forgot to stand.
I won’t forget again.
As for her version of too much, there’s no such thing, not where Ana is concerned.
If she wants to test me on that, I’m along for the ride.
If she wants to test me on that while naked, even better.