“But I should’ve been there to catch her,” Kahn says. He shakes his head before pulling out his phone to tap on the screen a few times before looking up at me. “She’s at the house,” he informs me. “Confirmation that Darius is on the compound.”
“I want to be there.” I attempt to push to my feet, and with a sigh, Kahn helps me to stand. The moment I tug the needle from my arm, the machines go crazy behind me. Seconds later, two nurses and a doctor come racing into the room.
“You’re not cleared to leave yet,” the doctor says, his tone filled with dread that I’d just freed myself from the drip. One of the nurses, a short brunette, nervously glances at the doctor, her trembling hands trying to fasten a bandage against the blood trickling from where the needle had pierced. “I can’t allow you—”
“You’re not allowing me to do anything,” I inform him without stopping. At the cabinet, I grab my clothes and start dressing with the help of Kahn. Both nurses have quietened the machines, thankfully, because my fucking headache was slamming into my brain. “I’m leaving whether you like it or not. My wife has been kidnapped, and I’m going to find her.”
When I lock my glare on the good old doctor, I can read the fear across his expression. “I-I’ve never had a patient walk out after two bullet wounds to the chest.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything, doc,” I grin, and I’m certain he’s just pissed his pants. Kahn leaves the room for a short moment, returning with a wheelchair which I thankfully drop into.
“I need to check your vitals before you leave,” Doc says, sounding a lot more confident than he was moments ago. The man doesn’t realize just how much I don’t give a fuck about me, but he’s only doing his job, so I give a quick nod.
He does his job, making sure my heart rate and blood pressure are okay. He double checks my stitches, ensuring they’re not torn after the way I got up and out of the hospital bed. With a long checklist of medication, and a thorough talking to, I’m allowed out of the building.
Even if they didn’t want me to leave, I would’ve found a way out, and I’m certain they are aware of that. With Scarlett’s life in danger, I’m not taking any chances.
In the town car, Kahn settles in the back with me while my driver, Hodges, takes us through the streets, heading back to the manor house.
I look at Kahn, who’s busy on his phone. The sooner we get to this shit hole my brother’s taken Scarlett to, the better. “What time are we leaving for Arizona?”
“Once we pack a bag for me and one for Scarlett, we’ll head out. We also need to make sure we’re all armed. I don’t know what we’re walking into. Not completely, and I didn’t bring anything for you.”
I nod. My focus is on the window as we pass through Crimson Falls. At one time, I loved this town. It was small enough for me to hide away from my life, but also close enough for me to monitor Grace because I don’t fucking trust her.
I glance at Kahn and ask, “Did you get confirmation of Darius’s claims about his mother?”
He nods. “Whatever document he had at the ceremony was bullshit. Grace isn’t his mother. I’m not sure why he believed her, but the bloodwork we did after you were admitted to the hospital confirms you are brothers.”
A nod once more, turning my attention to the window. If I’ve learned the truth about us being blood related, then he must’ve done a test too. His mind works the same way mine does, which means he knows he’s not Scarlett’s uncle. And that only makes anxiety twist in my gut.
Darius wouldn’t hurt Scarlett. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t touch her, fuck her, or worse—make her want him as much as she wants me.
We have similar tastes sexually. When we were younger, we used to share our slaves, or submissives, and I’ve seen what my brother enjoys. Jealousy rears its head, my blood boiling at the thought of Scarlett being turned on by my brother.
By his words.
By his touch.
Darius enjoys humiliation, and something deep down inside me wonders if Scarlett does too. Her tastes run a lot darker than most women I’ve been with. And I’m certain if I’d pushed her, she would’ve allowed me to delve even deeper into her psyche.
And that’s dangerous.
Because Darius won’t stop. He won’t allow her a safe word.
I think about the folder I had on Scarlett, which is still in my desk drawer. The information we found about her past, the night she was hurt, confirms she’s using our sexual escapades as a way to deal with her trauma. When I tested her that night, chasing her through the forest, I thought she’d remember, that it’d push her to admit some drunk moron almost hurt her, but she didn’t say a word.