Beautifully Broken (The Denver Series Book 2)

by Eve L Mitchell

  “She can leave?” I asked tersely as I watched her get a tetanus shot.

  “Not yet, let the IV do its work.”

  I checked my watch and phone. “Devon.” I walked over to her as she looked up at me. “I need to go back to the house. I’ll be back in”—I looked at the doctor—“two hours?” He nodded, and I turned back to her.

  “I don’t want you to go.” Her wide frightened eyes looked up at me as her hand reached out for mine. “What if they’re waiting for you?” she whispered urgently.

  “I’ll be fine,” I assured her. “I’ll be back before you even miss me.”

  “Don’t be any longer.” Her look was meaningful.

  “Two hours,” I assured her. I headed over to the doc. “I’ll pay you double—no one else comes in here while she’s here. I don’t care who’s outside.”

  He looked at me and glanced behind me to his attendant. “Two hours? On a Friday night?” His eyes narrowed in shrewdness. “Triple.”

  I turned on my heel and left Devon on the bed in the small suite with a very expensive doctor. I grunted as I got into the Jag, and they had the cheek to say I was a mercenary.

  When I got back to the house, I was surprised that Aiden was still there, as was Les. “All good?”

  “I’m going,” Aiden said as he looked between the two of us. “Is she okay?”

  “Yeah.” I took in the kitchen and noticed it had been cleaned up. “How long have you been here?” I asked Les.

  “Hour maybe,” he answered as I waited patiently.

  Aiden looked between the two of us and nodded. “I’m going to go, let you both talk.” He looked at me as he headed out. “Let me know when it’s over.”

  I nodded once and waited for the door to close before I looked at Les. “Malcolm know where you are?”

  “No, I had the night off.”

  “Wayne?”

  “Called him on my way to you. Malcolm’s at home, going nowhere. He left Ken there.” Les looked at the boarded-up window. “What happened?”

  As I retold him the story, I handed him the guy’s mobile phone. “Where is he?”

  “Crematorium,” Les answered easily. “Easy. Couldn’t have gotten any closer if you tried.”

  “You use the one off the Boulevard?”

  “Sometimes.” Les looked through the phone. “You changed the pin when you had him in the garage?”

  “Obviously.”

  “You’re too fucking smart,” he muttered. “Which is why I don’t understand a hitman outside your house,” he said as he looked at me, his look questioning.

  “Desperation.”

  “Yours? Or whoever ordered the hit?”

  “Hit was shit,” I said as I got water from the fridge. “Who the fuck tries to shoot someone through a window with a handgun?” I shook my head. “It makes me think.”

  “About?”

  “Players on the board.”

  “What?” Les looked confused.

  “The kid had lousy aim, which means he’s an amateur, which means who sent him is either an idiot or an amateur.”

  “How does this involve you?” Les asked as he leaned against the counter.

  “I’m going to find out. However, I need you to sit on Malcolm for a few days. I have shit to take care of, and he’s fucking me off,” I told him as I started to unbutton my shirt. “And I need to change.”

  “He cares for you, that’s why he’s worried,” Les defended his boss.

  “He’s worried it’ll cost him money,” I grunted as I headed upstairs. I heard Les following me as I got to the bedroom and dropped my shirt into a bag. “Will you be okay fending him off?”

  “Yeah, I’ll play on the fact you’re being pulled in too many directions.” Les shrugged. “It makes sense, you seem to have your hands full.”

  “I’ll have the phone, but call the burner if it’s urgent. I don’t plan on answering anyone else.”

  “Wow, that makes me like a favourite or something?” Les said with a twinkle in his eye as I pulled on a hoodie.

  “You’re a special cupcake,” I told him with a smirk. Once I was changed, I threw some stuff in a bag while Les did Devon’s room.

  “Okay, I have to get back to her, and then I’ll be in touch.” I hesitated. “You good?”

  Les rolled his eyes at me. “I got you covered, Raphe. Worry about who’s taking pops at you with your girl.”

  I was going to tell him she wasn’t my girl, but I couldn’t be bothered with the argument. “See you soon.”

  As I drove back to get Devon, I considered my next move. I turned the car and made the detour.

  I parked well out of sight and away from the main body of the crowd. My hoodie was black, and I wondered if I knew subconsciously that I was going to do this tonight. Pulling out a black bandana, I covered my nose and mouth as I checked my guns and my pocket for my garotte wire. At the trunk, I took out two knives, slipping one into my boot and the other down my side. Black latex gloves on, I checked myself over carefully.

  When I had been here previously, I had noted the back and side entrances, and I used them now as I made my way into the basement. Tony Soprano wannabe sat with his cronies around the table just like they had last time. The filing cabinet askew this time as if they were ready to run.

  They wouldn’t get the chance to run.

  His muscle hit the ground first. The two guys on either side of him next, falling face first onto the table as they bled out.

  Mario looked at me, and recognition paled his complexion. I didn’t lower my bandana. I shot him twice as his head fell back with the force of the gunfire, then I stepped forward and picked up the money on the table. Carelessly I kicked a few chairs out of place and upturned a table. It looked like a robbery. Using the filing cabinet as my exit, I made my way out.

  I was back at the car fifteen minutes later. I’d recognised his annoying grunt when he instructed my “killer” back to the bar. It had taken me a minute to place him, and then driving to get Devon, I decided there was no time like the present. They thought they could make a hit on me after only being in business with Malcolm for a few weeks? Idiots. Ambitious, but idiots all the same.

  As I got to the doc’s, I removed the gloves and pulled the bandana down, tucking it under my hoodie. When I went in to see her, she was sitting up, an unnatural colour to her cheeks, her eyes glassy. Devon was currently enjoying her pain meds, it seemed.

  “You’re late.”

  “You seem better,” I said, then looked to the doc. “Any issues?”

  “The patient is fine,” he told me. “Door’s been knocked a few times.”

  I dropped the money from Soprano man onto his counter. “Consider it a bonus for your loss of business.”

  Devon was already off the bed and standing patiently. As I led her out and to the car, I glanced down at my hand when I felt her small hand slip into mine. “You okay?” I asked her.

  “Just glad you’re okay.”

  Saying nothing, I waited until she was in the car, and then we were heading out of Denver. “Get some sleep,” I told her as we drove. Forty-five minutes later, I was parking the car outside a remote cabin south of Red Rocks Amphitheatre. It was a popular place but so vast that my cabin was tucked away, nestled in comfortable seclusion.

  “Devon, wake up.” While I was getting our bags from the trunk, she got out of the car and looked around in the darkness.

  “Where are we?”

  “Stay beside the car until I switch the outside light on,” I instructed as I walked past her. I heard her following me and said nothing, even though I wanted to reprimand her for being disobedient. I heard her stumble, and I smirked in satisfaction. “I told you to stay,” I reminded her.

  “I told you I’m not a dog.”

  “I don’t remember that,” I murmured as I pulled out the key for the cabin. “Wait,” I instructed as I opened the door. “I have alarms.”

  I left her muttering on the porch as I went inside, turni
ng on the lights and disarming the alarm and the perimeter alarm. Dropping the bags, I gave the cabin a once over before I made my way back to her. She was leaning against the rail of the wraparound porch when I went back out.

  “You okay?”

  “Cold.”

  “Come on.” I gestured for her to come inside, and she stopped and looked around at the open space living area with the kitchen to the side and the wooden staircase leading to the upstairs. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s a cabin.”

  “You’re a mastermind,” I deadpanned.

  “It’s wooden and logs and, holy shit, this is an authentic log cabin.” She turned slowly and moved into the cabin further. “Only…more.” With a glance at me, she ran her hand over the brown leather couch that sat in front of the fireplace. “Aiden’s?”

  “Mine.”

  Her face registered her surprise. “I didn’t have you pegged as Davy Crockett.”

  “I’ll get my raccoon hat,” I replied dryly.

  Devon ignored me as she looked around. “It’s so pretty.”

  “It’s not pretty, it’s manly,” I corrected her and saw her smile. “Come on, bed for you.” I saw her look of consideration. “There are two bedrooms and two bathrooms upstairs.”

  “Oh. Okay.” She followed me silently up the stairs, and I saw her look of interest as she saw the two doors on either side of the small landing. “Just the bedrooms?”

  “Yeah, that’s all it needs.” I opened the bedroom door, and she walked in to look at the simple furnishings.

  “You sure this is yours?” Devon asked as she glanced at me.

  “Why?” I took in the double bed, the neutral tones of the bedding and the drapes. It was simple and clean. A closet was situated on the opposite wall along with a dresser and chair. The bathroom door was half open, and I watched her go in. Again, it was a simple bathroom, nothing fancy, shower over the tub, the room tiled from floor to ceiling.

  “It’s got more character than any of the previous places we’ve stayed,” Devon said as she held her arm.

  “You sore?” I chose to ignore her comments and looked at her bandaged arm.

  “Yes, I got shot.”

  “I know,” I dismissed her snark as I checked her dressing to make sure there was no bleeding or anything coming through. “Painkillers still working?”

  “They’re wearing off, but I’m okay.” Devon moved her hair over her shoulder, sighing with fatigue. “Tired.”

  “It’s late, you’ve had an exciting night.” I took a step back, checking her skin colour. “Get some sleep.”

  “Raphe,” she called as I was heading out the door.

  “What?”

  “I can’t get my shirt off. You’re going to have to help me.” Her eyes were looking anywhere but at me, and I hesitated before crossing to her again.

  “Didn’t think of that.”

  Carefully, I removed her shirt, keeping my eyes to myself and trying not to notice her chest. “Your bra has blood on it,” I told her as I pulled her long hair free from the shirt.

  “Okay.” Devon’s voice was a whisper as I tossed the ruined shirt on the dresser.

  Turning, I opened the bag Les had packed for her and rummaged through it until I pulled out a grey strappy camisole with tiny black hearts on it. “Where the hell did this come from?” I asked her.

  “You bought me it?” Devon muttered, her face flaring with embarrassment.

  “Ah, right.” I held it up and looked at it and her. “Will this be okay? The cabin has heat from an underground heat pump, but there are fireplaces too.”

  “Um, yeah. There’s, um, matching shorts.”

  I was going to punch Les. Prick. I pulled them out of the bag and held the tiny shorts in front of me, grey like the top, tiny black hearts with grey lace around the bottom. These were not “get me the essentials” as I had instructed. These were feminine. Soft. Lacy. My fist tightened on them as I passed them to her.

  “Okay, you good?” I was making a beeline for the door when she called me back.

  “Um, my jeans?”

  This torture was never ending. I stopped and, repressing my sigh, turned back to her.

  He looked angry. I didn’t know why he was angry, I was the one who was shot. Standing there with my arm bandaged, in a bloody bra and bloodstained jeans, I looked like I’d been dragged through a hedge backwards after losing a fight with, oh yeah, someone who freaking shot me.

  “If I could do it myself, I would,” I told him with more anger than I should have.

  “It’s fine. I wasn’t thinking,” Raphe said as he reached for me and pulled me into him slightly. He flicked open my jeans and unzipped them, pushing them over my hips with almost clinical detachment. He bent to gather them at my feet, and I hastily grabbed onto his shoulder.

  “Lift.”

  I lifted my foot, and he pulled my leg free. Switching smoothly, he did the other leg, and now I was in front of him in only my underwear.

  I was in front of him in only my underwear, and he looked right through me.

  “Back clasp?” he asked as he ran a detached eye over my bra.

  I was officially going to die from embarrassment. “Yes.”

  I saw his jaw clench, and then he was unsnapping me with an expert flick. His hand came up and pressed the bra to my breasts to keep it from falling. Cool hands skimmed along my shoulder as he drew the strap over my injured arm.

  “You have blood on you,” he muttered. Those arctic blue eyes met mine. “I think you need to get a shower.”

  “Okay,” my voice was hoarse. “My hair?”

  Strong fingers ran through my hair as he checked it. “I think it’s fine. If you want, I’ll wash it for you?” It was the first time I had seen him look uncomfortable.

  “Either now or in the morning,” I said as I glanced at the bed. “I really don’t want to go to sleep with blood on me.”

  Raphe failed to cover his sigh, and then he was stalking past me to the bathroom. I heard the shower run as I stood there like a spare part in my panties and loose bra. He walked past me again and out the room and came back with a toiletry bag.

  I remained where I was until I heard him grunt in displeasure. “In order to wash you, I need you in the actual bathroom.”

  Hesitantly, I walked in and saw he had removed his hoodie. His naked chest was facing me. “Um?”

  “I’m not getting my clothes wet for you,” he griped. “Hurry up.”

  “Of course.” Yet my feet wouldn’t move.

  Raphe looked at me, and for the first time he looked at me. I felt my body react to the slow leisurely perusal of my body, my nipples pebbling on their own. A fact I couldn’t hide in my undressed state.

  “Scared?” his mocking tone made my eyes narrow.

  “Of you?” I asked as I walked forward, my hand pressed against my bra like a comfort blanket. “Every day,” I huffed. “Of being in the shower in front of you, not so much,” I lied. Neither was true. I was no longer scared of him, but I was terrified of being naked in front of him, not because Raphe would take what was in front of him, but because I was scared Raphe wouldn’t take it.

  His chest pressed into my bare back as I went to get into the shower. “Liar,” he breathed in my ear.

  My back arched on its own, my ass pressed back into him, and I almost combusted when his hand trailed over my stomach. Squeezing my eyes closed, I fought the moan that threatened to escape.

  “I have nothing left to hide.” My voice was husky as I stepped into the tub to get under the showerhead and yelped when he pulled me back.

  “Dressing can’t get wet,” Raphe reminded me as he turned me out of the spray. “You staying like that?” His eyes flicked to my bra and panties.

  Wordlessly, I handed him the bra, my heart pounding as he dropped it to the floor, his eyes holding mine.

  “I can change my underwear after,” I said softly. He had seen my breasts before, he had touched them, licked them, worshipped them
even. Okay, Devon, let’s calm down. I needed to keep some degree of privacy, and if that privacy was in the form of the barrier that was currently my panties, then I was willing to wash with them on.

  He unhooked the handheld showerhead and cautiously wet my hair, asking me to hold the nozzle as he worked in the shampoo. Was it fair that I was so turned on with the strong sure touch of his fingers as he carefully washed my hair, that I was reacting as if this was some form of foreplay? Was it my fault he touched me like I was porcelain and would break and this made my core ignite like a goddamn inferno? That this hard, unbending man was making sure he was nothing but gentle when he touched me. Thank God I was getting a shower, I had no other explanation for my damp panties otherwise.

  Raphe rinsed my hair, and then his gentle hands were coating it with conditioner. Deftly he twisted my hair, and from nowhere, a hair clip was produced, and he clipped my hair up. Pouring body wash onto a bath puff, he carefully washed me, cleaning me of all blood. His hand hesitated at my panties, and then he was working methodically down my legs.

  Jesus, I was going to need those fingers somewhere else and soon. My own were no use after I had experienced his, and I was close to craving him as he rinsed me off, my lady parts throbbing with want.

  “Turn,” Raphe instructed as he unclipped my hair. I felt his fingers comb through the strands as he washed out the conditioner, and then he was squeezing the excess water from it before reaching over to turn the water off.

  “Wait,” I cried hoarsely. “Um, I could do my, uh, parts.” My eyes were trained on the tile as I waved a hand in front of my panties. “If you turn, I can wash it. Them! Oh God, just turn.”

  His blue eyes full of amusement, he handed me the puff with the warning that I didn’t get my arm wet. Raphe turned his back. My chest heaved as he did so. His back was solid muscle, sculpted shoulders, the hard contours of his triceps on his arms. Good grief, I had living porn in front of me.

  “You okay?” Raphe asked me, and I jumped, his voice breaking through my rapt fascination with his back.