“Yes. Got it.”
“Good.” He stands and walks to the wall in one corner and hits a button. A panel rotates and displays a selection of guns, two of which he attaches to various parts of his body, and a sick feeling forms in my belly.
He turns to face me and he must read the terror I feel for him, because he kneels in front of me again. “I told you I walk the line of legal and illegal. You don’t deal with a cartel without crossing lines. Not even the FBI and CIA manage that, I promise you.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to. But I will do whatever is necessary to save my men, just like I will for you.”
I cup his cheek. “I know. I can handle this.”
He draws my hand in his. “If you call, I’ll answer, so don’t call unless it’s an emergency. Matteo is staying here in the War Room as field support and in case you need him. We won’t make a move to retrieve Enzo until nightfall, so don’t worry when I’m not back until late.” He pushes to his feet and takes me with him. “I’ll text you if I can to check in, but I can’t promise.” He leans in and kisses me. “I’m crazy about you. You know that, right?”
I grab his shirt, balling my fingers around the cotton. “Prove it and come back safe.”
He gives me a nod—no promise, no words—and I move to the doorway to watch him stride across the bedroom and disappear. I inhale and face the panel of guns, and turn away. I can’t think about guns and death right now. I need to do something to stay busy. I cross to the bathroom, place my purse on the vanity, then shrug out of my coat, which I toss on the edge of the tub.
I stare at myself in the mirror a minute, starting to get used to this me. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad, but if it involves Kayden, I vote good. My mind flickers back to those last happy moments with my mother, and I dig my phone out of my purse and dial Marabella.
“Ella,” she says. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. I was just wondering if you wanted to come bake chocolate chip cookies with me.”
“I would love to bake cookies with you. I’ll run to the corner store and be in the kitchen in half an hour.”
“Perfect. Thank you.” I set my phone down and head into the closet, where I exchange my boots for flats, throw on a hoodie, and head to the kitchen. There I make coffee and stand at the window Kayden favors, staring at the amazing view of a church with high steeples and stunning architecture.
Fifteen minutes later Marabella breezes into the kitchen, and my mood lightens with her infectious happiness. I help her bake, and we both decide it’s not my thing, though we get some good laughs at my efforts. Baking complete, we settle at the table and I tell her what I remember about my mother, and listen to her stories of Kevin, Kayden, and her husband.
Eventually though, our tongues are tired, the sun has set, and she sighs and stands. “I’m tired, honey. I need to rest. Are you okay here alone?”
“I am. Thank you for the cookies and the great conversation.”
It’s then that she says what has been in the air but not discussed. “This is his life. He needs you. I see it in his eyes, but be sure you can handle this before you do something like fall in love with him.”
Love. It’s a big word, and it’s not the first time I’ve wondered if that is where I’m headed with Kayden. “I can handle it. I just might need cookies and talk sessions here or there.”
She smiles her approval. “Cookies and conversations I can do.” She waves, and just like Kayden, she is gone, and I’m alone inside the tower.
I sit there and don’t move for quite some time. Just blank. No memories. No real thoughts. I think I am blocking it all out. Oh, how my mind likes to protect me and then turn around and destroy me.
An idea hits me and I stand, rushing to the bedroom closet, where I dig out my ballet slippers. Excited to give them a try, I hurry back to the hallway and open the panel leading to the gym. I all but run until I hit the fork in the path again and stop dead in my tracks, curiosity killing me. I have lots of time to kill, and exploring would be fun. So, hmmmm. Which way to go?
I choose left, and a short hallway leads me to a door. I open it and find an office with a giant, curved blond wood desk in the center, a fancy etched design in the wood, with two tan leather chairs, and bookshelves framing it. I inhale and smile; the sweet, spicy scent of Kayden is everywhere. I’m definitely staying a while. I move forward, rounding the desk to sit down, placing my slippers on the shiny surface, trailing my hands over the smooth wood and admiring the knobs that are in the shape of hawks. “The Hawk,” I whisper. “Kayden is The Hawk. He has to protect his people.”
I rest my elbows on the leather desk pad, thinking of what that kind of responsibility must feel like, my eyes catching on a file sticking out that reads Gallo. Frowning, I grab it and flip it open to find every piece of Gallo’s life since childhood inside. It’s very personal, and I feel like I’m invading his privacy by reading it. I shut it and set it aside. Why would Kayden have this? Unless … he’s planning something involving Gallo? Maybe he just wants to know the man who’s clearly out to get him. That, I can see for sure.
Then I see another file, one that reads Ella on the front. My breath hitches and a sense of foreboding washes over me that I don’t understand. Of course he has a file on me. He’s trying to figure out who I am.
Still, I have to inhale a calming breath, air trickling from my lips as I open it. My heart begins to race, charging so fast, it feels like it might explode from my chest. There’s only one thing in the file: a snapshot of the butterfly necklace.
Not a drawing. An actual photo.
I only just told him about the necklace, and why would he have Tyler draw it, if he knew what it looked like?
Kayden knew about the necklace but didn’t tell me.
I tell myself there’s a good reason, but I can’t think of what that can be.
I stand up, barely able to breathe. I need air. I need space. I run out of the room and down the stairs, and don’t stop until my purse is over my shoulder. I leave my coat behind, needing the realness of the cold. I need to decide whether I talk to Kayden about this or dig for answers on my own. I’m also reminded that he felt familiar from day one. Why? Why? And damn it, I do not want to doubt the one person I have trusted, the man I feel so connected to.
But I can’t be a fool, either. The idea drives me forward, and my mind and emotions are so jumbled that I blink—I am at the front door of the castle and don’t even remember the walk. I reach for the knob and it bursts open. I back up and watch in disbelief as the men from the bar last night carry a bleeding man inside.
Kayden follows, speaking into his phone. “Why the fuck aren’t you here already, Nathan? Hurry the hell up.” He ends the call and the men charge toward the center tower steps, blood dripping everywhere, and a series of images flashes through my mind. My father was a medic in the army, and he taught me about that, too.
“Stop!” I shout, racing after them. “Put him down before you make him lose too much blood, or put him into shock!”
The men pause and look at Kayden, who I feel at my back.
I whirl around. “Put him down if you want him to live.”
Kayden doesn’t hesitate. “Do it!” he orders.
They lower the man, who I assume is Enzo, to the floor and I drop to my knees next to him, applying pressure to the wound in his chest, but he’s bleeding from his arm, too. He’s not moving and pale.
Kayden kneels across from me and applies pressure to his arm, checking his pulse as he does. “It’s weak.”
“He’s losing too much blood,” I say, eyeing one of the men. “I need you to hold where I’m holding.”
The man swiftly joins me on the ground, replacing my hands with his, but before I fully release my hold, I warn, “Don’t let go or he’ll die.”
Then I climb over Enzo to get to Kayden, unhook his belt, and pull it from the loops. “I need your shirt to wrap the wound. I’ll keep pressure on his arm
while you take it off.”
My hand replaces his and he yanks his shirt over his head. “You wrap his arm,” he says, “and I’ll belt it.”
“Good. Belt it really tight.”
He gives me a nod, and in a blur of movement, we have the tourniquet on. Enzo moans, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s a good sign.
“I’m here!” Nathan shouts, entering with Matteo, both men carrying bags, and just the sight of him is relief. Then he’s taking my spot. “I need to start an IV; he needs blood. Get me blood now!”
I don’t even want to know where they’re going to get that. No longer needed, I turn and start walking, so cold I’m brittle, and I barely remember reaching the main level of our tower, or when I turn toward the spare bedroom. Inside, I continue to the bathroom and turn on the shower. I then step inside fully dressed and sit down, staring at the blood pouring off of me and down the drain. My shaky hand unzips my purse and closes around my gun. It’s my friend. I’m not sure who else is.
The shower door opens and Kayden steps inside, kneeling in front of me, blood washing off his pants and body as they are mine. So much blood.
“Ella.” His hands settle on my shoulders and I want them there, and I don’t want them there. I don’t look at him and he cups my face, forcing my gaze to his. “Sweetheart. What are you doing?”
I swallow the knot in my throat, water running over my face and his. “I can handle a lot of things, Kayden. Maybe even a bloody man dying in your foyer. But I can’t handle lies.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I saw the photo of my necklace in your office.”
His hands fall away, his withdrawal proving the betrayal I’d prayed wasn’t true. What else did he know that he hasn’t told me?
The certainty that too much with this man hasn’t been what it seems hurts, cutting like a jagged-edged knife through my heart. I want answers. I want the lies to end.
I pull my gun from my purse and point it at him. “Who are you to me, Kayden? Who am I?”
To be continued in the next book in the Careless Whispers series, Demand!
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about the author
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LISA RENEE JONES is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of more than forty books across many romance genres—contemporary, romantic suspense, dark paranormal, and erotic fiction. Her books have been translated all around the world, and her highly acclaimed Inside Out series is now in development for cable television. She loves to hear from readers.
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Also by Lisa Renee Jones
The Inside Out Series
If I Were You
Being Me
Revealing Us
His Secrets*
Rebecca’s Lost Journals
The Master Undone*
My Hunger*
No In Between
My Control*
I Belong to You
All of Me*
The Secret Life of Amy Bensen Series
Escaping Reality
Infinite Possibilities
Forsaken
Unbroken*
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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First Gallery Books trade paperback edition November 2015
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Interior design by Davina Mock-Maniscalco
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Jones, Lisa Renee.
Denial / Lisa Renee Jones.—First Gallery Books trade paperback edition.
pages cm — (Careless whispers)
I. Title.
PS3610.O627D46 2015
813’.6—dc23
2015024192
ISBN 978-1-5011-2285-9
ISBN 978-1-5011-2286-6 (ebook)
contents
Letter to Readers
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
About the Author
Denial (Careless Whispers #1) Page 27