by Katee Robert
“Feds.”
It figured. He didn’t know if John Finch had a way to track his daughter, but if Aiden had been driven batshit crazy with the knowledge that Charlie was at Mae’s mercy, surely even a stone-cold bastard like the fed would be affected.
He held Charlie closer and started for the door. “Leave Mae for them.”
“Gladly.” Romanov didn’t follow him, though. “You may use my residence for a stopover before returning to Boston.”
“Where are you going?”
“I have business to attend to.”
It wasn’t really an answer, but Aiden had more pressing concerns than Romanov’s games—namely, getting Charlie somewhere safe so he could clean her up and figure out how badly she was injured.
So he could apologize for getting her into this mess to begin with.
He shouldered out the door and stopped short. Mark and his men were facing off with cops. All had their guns drawn and steely looks on their faces, but his attention was caught and held by the man in the center. John Finch.
Guess I didn’t move fast enough.
Charlie raised her head, and the relief on her father’s face was apparent for all to see. He strode forward, ignoring the standoff around them. “Charlie.”
She managed a smile, which made Aiden want to hug her tighter. “Dad.”
He’d never met John Finch in person, but the man looked older than in his pictures. Or maybe it was seeing his daughter in danger that had aged him in such a short time. His eyes were Charlie’s eyes—though more gray than blue—seeing far too much. His gaze flicked between them, and Aiden didn’t try to hide how he felt about the woman in his arms. He and Charlie had some shit to work out, but he fully intended on making this thing between them permanent.
Both he and John Finch had a lot to come to terms with as a result.
“Dad, Mae Eldridge is in the warehouse—alive.” Charlie’s voice was strong despite the circumstances. “She kidnapped and tortured me. I’ll testify.”
“We’ll talk about that later.” He looked at Aiden again and hesitated, seeming torn. Finally, he cursed. “You and I will have words later, as well, O’Malley.”
Since it suited his purposes perfectly, Aiden didn’t comment on the fact that Finch was more concerned with arresting Mae Eldridge than seeing his daughter to the nearest hospital. He didn’t ask about her injuries, didn’t show more than the barest hint of emotion, aside from walking directly to her despite the hostile men at Aiden’s back.
From the way Charlie wilted, just a little, as he carried her away from the warehouse, it was clear she hadn’t missed it, either. “I knew you’d come.” She spoke so softly, he had to strain to hear her.
He kissed the top of her head and made his way to the waiting car. They’d stop over at Romanov’s “residence” long enough to get her cleaned up, and then they’d go back to Boston. Any talk of the future could wait until them. “I’ll always come for you, bright eyes. Always.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Dmitri left the helicopter on the roof of the building he’d purchased a little over a year ago and made it to the car waiting for him at the curb in record time. He checked his watch as the driver muscled his way through the early morning traffic. Aiden would see to his woman’s health before he tried to travel back to Boston, and by that point he’d be hitting peak rush-hour traffic.
All going according to plan.
He hadn’t known Mae was going to be so foolish for the second time in less than a week, but he wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of the situation. In the last few days, he’d discovered that Aiden O’Malley had attempted to pit the FBI against him. He could admire the man’s genius, but he had no intention of spending the rest of his life in a prison cell—or rotting away in an unmarked grave somewhere. Once he’d realized Charlie Moreaux was none other than Charlotte Finch, it all became clear.
She would want revenge for that unfortunate business with the NYPD. It would never occur to her that he’d had nothing directly to do with it. He hadn’t even known the cops on his payroll were going to strike one of their own until after the fact—though he hadn’t stood in their way as they’d put together a case against her.
Dirty cops really were loathsome creatures.
It would be best for everyone if she put that all behind her and settled into a life with Aiden—and if Aiden himself did the same. Let sleeping monsters lie and all that nonsense.
But Dmitri knew people, and he knew that was a lost hope. Even if Aiden called off his vendetta, he wouldn’t willingly follow through with their deal regarding Keira—a deal that had clearly been made to distract Dmitri while O’Malley got his players into place. And that Dmitri couldn’t allow.
“We’re here, boss.”
“Keep the car running.” He slipped out into the brisk morning air and looked up to find the first rays of sunrise lightening the sky. If Aiden had alerted the family to the emergency, it would make Dmitri’s job significantly more complicated. He took his phone out as he strode down the block toward the O’Malley town house.
The phone rang several times before a sleepy voice answered. “Do you even know what time it is?”
Dmitri slowed to a stop, able to imagine Keira perfectly. Though it wasn’t her bed he pictured her in—it was his. Unforgivable. He ignored the voice in his head, relishing the sight of her tangled with his sheets, her hair spilled out over his pillows, her eyes barely open as she murmured her question.
Sentimental. Not something he was used to being accused of, even if he was the one doing the accusing. “Are you still wearing my ring?”
The sounds of rustling echoed across the line. When she answered, the sleep was gone from her voice. “Yes.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to offer her everything she could ever want and more, but for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure how a person would react in a given situation.
Keira might come with him, no questions asked, because she wanted him.
She might choose him.
He couldn’t guarantee that she would.
So he went with the safer bet. “Your brother intends to break his word to me and cancel our engagement.”
“What?”
“You can stop it, Keira. Come with me now and I’ll forget that he was going to break his word.”
There was movement in the window of her room. She pulled the curtains back and stared at him from behind the relative safety of the glass. “If I come with you now”—her voice hitched—“promise me there will be peace. Give me your word.”
He couldn’t. Dmitri never gave his word if he couldn’t guarantee he could keep it. “I give my word that I will do nothing further to antagonize your brother and the situation.”
“But if he comes after me, you’ll finish what he started. No. I’m not signing Aiden’s death warrant.” She was a smart girl. She’d heard what he wasn’t saying.
He cursed in Russian. “I will do everything in my power to broker peace if you come with me right this moment.” The longer he stood outside the O’Malley home, the greater the chance someone would see and report it. “The clock is ticking, Keira.”
She hesitated, and he could practically see the wheels in her head turning. Finally, she nodded. “Give me two minutes.”
“Be quick.”
Exactly one hundred twenty seconds later, the window opened and Keira climbed out. She carried a small bag, and part of him was curious as to what had been important enough for her to pack. He’d get the answer later. If she was coming with him now, it meant he had the rest of their lives to delve into her secrets.
Anticipation curled through him as she climbed down the tree with ease. After the repeated frustrations and disappointments the last few years had brought, he was walking away with the single most important piece of the game as far as he was concerned. I win. He touched the small of her back, because he could, and turned toward where the car was still idling down the block.
He
should have known it wouldn’t be that simple.
“Stop.”
Dmitri looked over his shoulder to find Cillian O’Malley standing on the front step, pointing a gun at him with an unwavering grip. He almost sighed, but he had no intention of getting himself or Keira shot. “Put the gun down, Cillian.”
“I don’t care if you helped Aiden and Charlie, you are not taking my sister anywhere.”
That was rich coming from the man who was currently married to Dmitri’s half sister. Since Dmitri valued his time with Hadley—and Olivia by proxy—he couldn’t draw the gun he had nestled in the shoulder holster beneath his jacket. Not to mention that Cillian showed every evidence of being a good man and had been a positive influence on both Olivia and Hadley. Shooting him would be a damn shame.
Fortunately, Cillian had already gift-wrapped for Dmitri the key to his undoing.
He kept his hand lightly resting on Keira’s back, a physical reminder to her to not to move too quickly. He didn’t want her idiot brother to pull the trigger by accident. Dmitri turned his attention to Cillian. “Do you remember when we called a cease-fire?”
The man glared. “You mean when you extorted that promise from Olivia that granted you access to Hadley? Yeah, I remember.”
“There was another promise made that day.” He didn’t wait for the man to work it out. “You owe me a favor, Cillian O’Malley.”
“The fuck I do.”
Is there no honor left in this world? He bit back his irritation. “Break your word and our deal is null and void.”
Cillian hesitated, clearly torn between the woman he loved and his youngest sister. Dmitri couldn’t be sure which way Cillian would fall at the end of the internal struggle he was currently engaged in, and that aggravated him almost as much as the man threatening to break his word.
Keira put her hand on Dmitri’s chest and stepped forward a little. “Cillian, please. Just let me go. I’m choosing this. I’ll be okay. I promise.”
Cillian relaxed, partially lowering the gun, and Dmitri almost rolled his eyes. She was lying through her teeth. She hadn’t been okay in a very long time, as best he could tell. But if her brothers hadn’t stepped in before now, there was no reason to expect they’d step in today.
The gun inched lower, finally aiming safely at the concrete at Cillian’s feet. “Aiden is going to come after you, Keira. You know that.”
“He promised to respect my choice.” Her voice was low and fierce. “If he pulls the same shit Teague pulled with Sloan, I’ll shoot him myself.”
Cillian’s gaze flicked to where her hand was still on Dmitri’s chest. “That was a different situation.”
“No, it wasn’t.” She turned and walked away, now gripping his shirt to tow him after her. Dmitri allowed it, because if it looked like she was in control, it would assuage Cillian’s guilt and maybe he’d be quiet about what had occurred for a little while longer.
It wasn’t until they were in the backseat that Keira slouched against the leather and closed her eyes. “How long until we get to your place?”
“We’re not going to my place.” Not yet.
She opened one eye. “Then where are we going?”
“A chapel.”
* * *
Aiden couldn’t make himself let go of Charlie. He held her the entire car ride to the Russian’s home. He carried her up the stairs to the suite that was apparently theirs for the duration. The bed was luxurious to the point of idiocy, but he was more concerned with getting Charlie cleaned up so he could see the damage.
He turned to the man who’d met them when they arrived. “We’ll need medical supplies and something loose and comfortable for her to change into.” The man nodded, and Aiden shut and locked the bathroom door.
Only then did Charlie speak. “I can stand on my own.”
In more ways than one. “I know, bright eyes.” He helped her sit on the counter and carefully took stock. The blood had dried in many places, fusing the clothes to her skin. To get them off, they were going to have to reopen the wounds. “If we get these wet, they’ll be less likely to hurt you when we get them off.”
“And harder to get off.” She gave a halfhearted smirk. “That’s what she said.”
He pulled a knife from his boot and set to work cutting apart her clothes. It would make it easier to pull them away once he got her in the shower. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? Saving my life?” She rested her hands on his shoulders as he worked. Her passiveness and too-wide blue eyes read shock to him. The faster he got her cleaned, patched up, and in warm, dry clothes, the better.
“You wouldn’t have been in that warehouse if it wasn’t for me. I pulled you into this mess.”
“Because I’m John Finch’s daughter.”
He froze. He could lie to her. He could remind her of all the good things they’d shared that had nothing to do with whose children they were. But if he wanted a chance in hell of her staying, he couldn’t dodge this truth. “You’re right. I picked you because of who your father was and the fact you were burned by Romanov.”
She sifted her fingers through his hair. “I know.”
“Charlie, I’m sorry.” He went to his knees in front of her, still holding onto her hips. “I could have found another way, and we both know it. It sounds cliché as fuck, but my motivation changed almost immediately, right around the time we ended up in bed together. I don’t even know how to explain it, but you fit. You see me in a way that no one else does, and you’re never afraid to push back when I’m being a dick.”
“Which is regularly.”
For once, he couldn’t read a single thing on her face. Aiden didn’t know if it was shock or if she had written him off right around the time Mae took her. “If I hadn’t—”
“Aiden, stop. As charming as it is hearing you grovel, the truth is Mae taking me had nothing to do with you.”
He went stock-still. “What are you talking about?”
“That vendetta you have against my father? You’re not the only one. From the sounds of it, he’s managed to piss off every single organized-crime family in a three-hundred-mile radius.” The corners of her lips turned down. “He never told me. I knew his work was important—dangerous, even—but he never bothered to warn me that it might trickle down to me.”
She looked so damn heartbroken that he pushed to his feet and gathered her close. “I know this isn’t something I can make right, but I meant it when I said I was playing for keeps. It’s too fucking soon, but if the last twelve hours have proven anything, it’s that we can’t take a damn thing for granted. I love you, Charlie. I love your strength and your intelligence, and your wicked sense of humor. I love that you’re a survivor and it doesn’t matter how hard the world knocks you down, because you come back swinging.”
“Aiden.” There was a wealth of information in the way she said his name, weary to the core.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, right above one of the cuts. “It’s too soon. You don’t have to answer now. Or tomorrow. Or, hell, next week. You’re safe, bright eyes. I’ll wait as long as you need, and once you make your decision, if you tell me to get lost, I’ll respect that.” He checked to make sure she wouldn’t keel over and then stood up to turn on the shower.
Neither of them spoke as the water heated up. Silence continued to reign through the painful process of cleaning Charlie’s wounds and bandaging her up. Aiden found two sets of clothes laid out on the bed and quickly changed into the sweats and T-shirt meant for him. He helped Charlie put on a matching set.
She looked like she’d gone through a war—and she had.
“Where do you want to go?”
“My apartment.” She rattled off an address that he remembered from the file Liam had compiled when they first put the plan into motion.
Aiden nodded. “Let’s go.” The sooner they were out of the Romanov residence, the better. He didn’t think Dmitri would go back on his word after enduring so much shit to keep them alive, but
he wasn’t willing to risk Charlie on an assumption.
Forty-five minutes later, Mark dropped them off in front of a run-down building six blocks from the bar Aiden had first found her in. He fought down the instinct demanding that he toss her ass back into the car and drive to a safer neighborhood. Charlie had lived here for two years without incident. She was more than capable of taking care of herself.
That didn’t mean he had to like it.
He hesitated in front of the door. “Will you let me check the place out?”
“I’d like you to stay the night.” She shook almost imperceptibly. “Just tonight.”
“Anything you need, bright eyes.”
She unlocked the door to her apartment and let them in. It was as run-down as the rest of the place, but Charlie had livened it up with bright throws on the secondhand furniture and equally bright prints on the walls. Her bedroom was more of the same, a orange and white chevron knitted blanket covering the dull gray comforter and making the whole place feel more like a home than just a location where someone slept. “I like it.”
“You’re already categorizing the improvements you’d make—if you wouldn’t buy the whole building and condemn it outright.” She carefully pulled the T-shirt off and slid the sweats down her legs. Her body was a patchwork of bruises and cuts, but she hadn’t had any trouble breathing and showed no signs of internal bleeding.
“I should call Doc Jones.”
“I’m fine.” Charlie shook her head and then winced. “Not fine. I’m nowhere near fine. But Mae was careful enough not to do anything that would kill me, and the cuts aren’t deep enough to scar. She wasn’t done playing yet.”
His stomach lodged in his throat. Aiden stripped quickly and pulled down the covers. “Come here.”
She didn’t hesitate. He settled them in her bed, her back against his front, and tucked the blankets up around them. Her little shakes didn’t dissipate for the longest time, but she slowly relaxed, muscle by muscle.
“If you need to talk about it, I’m here.”
“I don’t want to.” She pulled his arms tighter around her. “Not yet.”