by S. L. Scott
A hand covers the bruise as if she’d forgotten about it, but then she pauses and takes a breath. “Hit a wall.”
“With your face?”
Her eyes are bright, but the glare harsh. I still hold it because she’s not intimidating me into moving on. “I’m sorry,” she says, sitting up.
My heart had just started to regulate, but now it speeds up for another reason not related to running at all. “Why would you be sorry?”
“Because I dragged you into this,” she says, signaling to the back window.
“Are those guys the wall you hit? Who are they?” She leans forward and looks out the window, then glances back, seeming to expect a car chase to ensue. I say, “This isn’t the movies. This is real life. Ours, to be specific.”
“Ours.” She rolls the word around on her tongue, situating herself forward again.
I pull off my jacket because I’m sweating like a fucking pig. Thinking back to how I wore this to impress her, it seems frivolous compared to what just happened. “Do you have your passport on you?”
“Yes. Why?” Then it dawns on her, her eyes going wide. “Oh, no. I’m not leaving.” She tells the driver to pull over. I tell him to drive, in English, but he gets it, and since I’m the client, he continues to drive. “I can’t go with you, Bennett.”
“Riddle me this, Nobleman.” She shoots me another hard stare but doesn’t say anything, so I continue, “You tell me to meet you and then tell me to run. For my life, I might add. Now I see someone has hurt you, but you’re the one in control? No, it’s not working like that anymore. Whatever game you’re playing, you’re losing. You’re the queen of diversion, but now it’s time to fess up because I’m not letting you off the hook anymore. Your life is in danger and now mine. So tell me, why are you in Paris, Winter?”
“Do you always shoot first and ask questions later?”
“And here I thought I was asking questions first. Is that topic too loaded? Let me try a softer approach, sweetheart. Who the fuck were those guys chasing you and apparently wanting to hurt me?”
By the way her mouth tenses tight like a little ball of yarn, she’s offended. That makes two of us.
Waving me off, she says, “We don’t have enough time to talk about it.”
I text Zenny: On my way to the plane. Have it ready to go. Add Winter Nobleman to the passenger list. “We’re about to have seven plus hours. Is that enough time?”
“I’m not going with you, Bennett. You can drag me along for the ride, but you’re getting on the plane alone.”
“I don’t think so.” I sit back and stare at her because I can be hardheaded too. I check out the angles of her face I missed the other times we’ve been together. She’s stunning in any mood she decides to wear and owns it like she invented the emotion.
Her gaze lands solidly on my mouth and works its way up to my eyes. “You’re not giving me a choice? It doesn’t work like that.”
“Tell me who those men were and why you’re in Paris.” We can play this game all the way back to New York.
“No.”
“My life was on the line. Tell me why.”
Her guard falls, and she looks away. “I’m sorry. I do owe you answers, but I can’t give them in ten minutes.”
“Give me something, like which wall do I have to hurt for banging you up?”
That earns me the slightest of grins, but I’ll take what I can get right now. “They work for a man I used to work for.”
“That changes things. Who did you used to work for?”
She looks back, regret taking over her expression. “Bennett.” She looks down at her twisting fingers, then back up at me. “Listen, you get on that plane and go home as fast as you can. You’ll be safer there.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be fine. I always am.”
“Not by the looks of it.” I reach over, asking silent permission. She doesn’t move away, and if I’m not mistaken, she even moves toward my hand. “Are you okay?”
With a gentle nod, her lids flutter closed. I move my finger along her jaw, and over the bruise so lightly I don’t know if she can feel it, but I won’t cause her any more pain. Who the fuck hurt her? Why would they do that?
It’s not the time or place to do it, but I do anyway because the heightened emotions between last night have simmered to a low boil. I care about her, and this might be the only real chance I get to make amends.
I kiss her cheek and then again lower over the bruise on her jaw that looks like it’s going to get worse before better . . . sort of like us.
“I’m going home, Winter, but I’m not leaving you behind.” I sit back like this is settled, grumbling to get it off my chest. “You’re so caught in your secrets that you don’t even know what’s best anymore.”
“And you do? How?” Her hand flies to her chest. “How could you possibly know what’s best for me? You don’t even know me.”
Points have a purpose. She slams down the evidence substantiating the situation. She’s not wrong. “How do I walk away? How do I leave you behind when two goons just chased you through a park in broad daylight? What would they have done if they caught you?”
“That’s just it, Bennett. They weren’t after me. They were after you.”
17
Bennett
“Me?” I glance out the back window, feeling like we’re being watched. “I’ve never seen those men before. Why would they be after me?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I can keep up.”
She holds my gaze when it turns her way, but her expression falls, and she remains quiet.
Anger surges, and my hands clench into fists. “Why won’t you tell me any-fucking-thing? What are you involved in that has you risking your life and mine?”
“Please don’t make me say it.”
“I won’t, but you’re getting on that plane.”
Her mouth falls open. “You don’t own me!”
I stare in disbelief. “Own you? Of course, I don’t fucking own you. But you’re not thinking clearly. You need to be safe, Winter, and you’re clearly not safe in Paris.”
“I’m not the one in trouble.”
My eyes almost bulge out. “Really? Some fucker hit you, and you think you’re not in trouble?” I take a deep breath, struggling not to take the anger I hold toward whoever did this to her out on her. “Define trouble then? Do they need to rape or kill you in addition to beating you up?” Really fucking struggle. “I mean, what the fuck, Winter?”
The worst part is, she doesn’t recoil. Someone’s been abusing her long enough for her to take the hits blow by blow, and she keeps thickening her skin. I won’t be the next one. “I’m sorry,” I say.
When she looks at me, there’s no hate. The glistening tears in her eyes reveal her fear, and she slides closer. “How do I tell you details when I know it will put you in jeopardy?”
“I can take care of myself. Let me help you.” Taking her hand, I hold it. “Come with me. Get on the plane and fly home with me.”
“I can’t, Bennett.”
“I’ll protect you.”
We approach the airfield. The driver shows his ID, and the gate opens. Winter sits forward. “You’re flying private?”
“Yes. All we have to do is walk onto that plane and leave. Together. Whatever you’re caught up in, I can help you get out. Look at me, Winter.” Like broken ice adrift in the Bering Sea, her gaze doesn’t rush over to me. I speak from the heart when I plead, “Come with me.”
Her tears tip over the icy edge of her lids and fall to their demise, extending their reach in the threads of her red sweater. She wipes the next two away with the back of her fabric-covered wrists. “I want to, but I can’t.”
“Just tell me what’s going on. Let me help you.”
She sniffles and leans toward the window, looking up at the sky. “We had one perfect day.” Turning back to me, she adds, “Have you ever thought that maybe that’s all we were meant to be
?”
“No,” I reply, assuredly. I wasn’t aiming for a smile, but given what we just went through, hers is welcome. “I’m drawn to you, Winter. I didn’t tell you why I came to Paris with the intent to deceive you. And I’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you either.”
“I know, Bennett. I know you’d never intentionally hurt me. I’m sorry I ran.”
“I understand why you did, but please give me a chance to talk this out.” I feel like I’m begging. Even though my day started with a taste of happiness because I believed I had time to mend fences, the chase certainly woke me up to the fact that there’s so much more to this than meets the eye. How on earth could I have been the one who those goons were after? No one outside my family and hers knows I’m in Paris, much less would care for any particular reason.
“I want to talk to you, Bennett, please know that. I’m not in the position to, though, and I need you to trust me on that. Please.” Something in her expression changes; a look in her eyes as she stares at the planes ahead of her.
“Those men have hurt you.” I ask, “Why?”
“If I tell you, I’ll be risking everything.”
“Seems you already have.”
My words are sharp, purposely directed to get a reaction, and I get one.
“I’m sorry, so sorry for getting you involved.” Her top teeth gather in her bottom lip, and she worries it. “You can fly me to the moon, and he’d still find me.”
“Then you’ll come home with me. It’s a fortress.”
“Home,” she whispers, though I don’t think it was for my ears.
Bringing her hand to my lips, I kiss the top, and whisper, “I’ll protect you.”
* * *
Chasing the sunset, we’ve spent hours in peace high above the clouds. I relied on the steady whirr of the plane’s engine and Winter’s deep slumber to know everything was going to be okay.
Before she fell asleep, she wasn’t talking to me, making me rethink the demands I made on her to leave. I’ll weather the blowback. Her safety was and is more important than ruffling her feathers for a short time. There’s no way I could leave her on that tarmac unprotected.
I’ll let her rest for now because, apparently, she needs it by how hard she’s sleeping. We have a lot to talk about when she wakes up. I just want to discuss it under the protection of Everest Security.
The flight attendant bends down. “May I get you anything, Mr. Everest?”
“A bottle of water, please.” I’m about to plug in my earbuds, but then add, “And bourbon. Neat.”
“Yes, sir.”
I lean back to check on Winter across the aisle from me. She’s stubborn.
Feisty.
Sweet.
Funny.
A little quirky.
A fighter. I just wish I knew what she was fighting. Or whom.
Smart. So damn smart. Making me wonder how she got tangled up in whatever is holding her hostage from her own life.
I’ve had my own stumbling blocks, but nothing to the point of leaving this world behind—friends, family, and the life I live. What is she hiding? Who is she protecting?
The attendant returns, setting my drinks down. “Here you are, sir. Would you like a snack or for a meal to be served?”
“I’ll wait for Ms. Nobleman to wake.”
“As you wish.”
“Thank you.” I take a sip of the liquor, feeling the warm velvet rush through my veins. Watching her—lids closed, dark lashes curving up against the tops of her cheeks, wisps of hair hanging over her eyes—I find her stunning even in her sleep. Her mouth falls open, and a little rumble sneaks out.
Her snoring makes me chuckle. Good to know she has a flaw. Though it’s so cute I’m not sure I can classify it that way.
Shifting, her hand falls in front of her, and I’m tempted to take it, to hold it, to comfort her as she struggles to hold on to those last few moments of peaceful sleep.
I don’t. I take another sip instead and watch as her eyes open, slowly at first, with the sweetest of smiles following. “Hi,” she says, her voice raspy and dry.
When her eyes find my water, she sits up, bringing the seat with her. “Do you mind if I steal your drink?”
“Not at all.”
She gets up, tugging her sweater back in place, and sits next to me. Reaching for the glass in my hand instead of the water, she winks. I relent and watch as she takes a small sip and then a larger one. Resting her head back on the seat, she rolls her neck, facing me. “Did I snore?”
“No.” It’s an innocent little lie, the teeniest of fibs.
“Liar,” she says, stretching over the large armrest to tap my leg.
I catch it before she has time to pull it away and hold her there. With our eyes focused on each other, she takes another sip.
“I have lied to you, but I’m not a detective.”
“I know. I wasn’t thinking clearly when I said that.” She pulls her hand back and runs the tip of her finger around the edge of the glass several times before she looks back at me.
“I know your father because we were working on a communications deal.” I can’t read her expression because her eyes aren’t on me. I hate it. “He’s worried about you.”
“He’s not. You were just gullible enough to believe him. He doesn’t matter to me right now.” She finishes the drink and sets it between us, taking her hand from me and resting it in her lap. “You and your brothers are in danger. I knew who those men at the park were because they’re the ones who kidnapped me.”
I sit straight up in shock, the lap belt digging into my waist. “You were kidnapped?”
“That’s the first time I’ve said it to someone who didn’t do it.”
Fuck the seat belt. I release it and stand, needing the space to pace. What is she involved in? “Winter, you need to tell me why and by who.”
“I didn’t know why until I met you.” Her voice shakes just enough to hear the fear that’s gripped her.
“Me? What do I have to do with it?”
“I was used to get to you. I didn’t know, though. Please believe me. I would have never hurt you or put you in danger if I had.”
“I don’t understand. You didn’t know me, and I didn’t know you.” My mind starts ticking through the conversations we’ve had and then back to what brought me to Paris in the first place. “Fuck me.”
“What is it?”
“Your father. He’s the key.”
18
Winter
Bennett has been pacing the main cabin of the jet for the better part of an hour. Sometimes, he sits up front on the couch, speaking so quietly on the phone I can’t hear him. The engine noise keeps his call private, but I know he’s talking about what to do when we land and doesn’t want to worry me.
I’m a wrench in his plans, an unexpected detour on his golden brick road. The man was born for success. Everything about him from his personality to his looks to his patience and humor draws you to him like a bee to honey. He’s just as sweet. How, after finding out I had put him in danger, did he want to protect me? He should have left me in Paris.
I can’t be his downfall.
I could never live with myself if he was hurt . . . or worse.
Will telling him the whole truth hurt or help the situation? I’m unsure.
But Kurt McCoy plays dirty, so I have to tell him every sordid detail.
Taking the seat next to me, he fastens his seat belt after stowing his phone in his pocket. “We’re landing soon. Buckle up—”
“Buttercup,” I finish. That earns me a smile. I soak it in, needing his light, his happy, and his charms back in my life.
“I have a million questions but need the security team to hear the answers. You’re coming home with me.”
“Come home with you and spill my lying guts, hoping the truth sounds more real than fiction? You should want me as far away from you as possible. Because of me, you were almost hurt today.”
“I’m
not afraid of getting hurt, Winter. Do you trust me?”
I settle into the soft seats and stare at my feet. “I don’t even know what trust means anymore.”
“It means that I tell you the truth, and you tell me the truth. I have your back, and you have mine.” My throat thickens, my heart racing. “It means I give you my heart, and you give me yours.”
“Is that what you want, Bennett?” I glance over. “You want to love me? I’m the most prickly pear out there.”
“The prickliest pears taste the sweetest.”
“Or die on the plant.”
“No, they don’t die. They bloom into the prettiest flowers.”
“Stop being so damn charming. I almost got you killed, remember?”
“Nah, today isn’t my day to die.”
“Then what is it?”
Leaning forward, he kisses my bruised jaw, and then whispers, “Just the beginning.”
* * *
We’ve landed, and a black SUV waits on the tarmac. A large man wearing all black stands at the base of the steps when we descend. Bennett greets him, “Lars.”
The door opens, and I hurry to the back seat while they look around and then load in right after. Lars is up front, and Bennett slides in next to me. I stopped asking where I was going upon arrival. I’m with Bennett seems to be good enough for all of us.
I’m not sure where we’re heading in our relationship, but I do feel a measure of comfort in his words. “It means I give you my heart, and you give me yours.” I’ve paid the price for trusting another man before, but I’m hoping my instinct is right to trust in Bennett. I already do, enough to consider giving him my heart.
I still worry about what he’ll think when he knows the full story. I sank to new lows when playing by the rules didn’t reward me. I can blame my father and brother all I want, but I’m the one who went to work for the enemy.
Nothing can justify my behavior, and it’s time I face the consequences of my actions. A pretty face can’t erase my dirty insides from the life Kurt made me lead under his lock and key.
I cover Bennett’s hand, hoping it’s possible to find our way out of this mess.