Violet glanced at him. His face was set, hard, menace radiating from him like heat from a desert road. “What do you mean you weren’t concerned about that? Shooting a person in broad daylight usually results in a murder charge.”
He lifted his shoulder. “Like I said, that didn’t concern me.”
Shock coursed down her spine. “What? You’d go to jail?”
“Killing Jericho may mean I end up with a death sentence anyway. Jail or death, either doesn’t worry me. Or at least, it didn’t.”
She couldn’t stop staring at him, a terrible clenching feeling in her chest. “You were going to sacrifice yourself?”
“Call it what you like, Jericho dead was the whole point. My life didn’t matter.”
No. He was wrong. He was so wrong. “Elijah—”
“But things have changed,” he interrupted before she could protest. “If your father’s empire is going to be taken down, someone has to take control of it, and logically that person is me. And I can’t do that if I’m dead or in jail.”
It should have been some comfort that he wasn’t going to throw his life away, and yet it wasn’t. Instead a great feeling of sadness sat like a boulder in the center of her chest, weighing her down. Was this really how he wanted his life to go? An endless revenge quest for the wife he’d lost years ago?
It made those tears rise again, clogging in her throat, that aching sadness getting heavier and heavier. Sadness for him and for what he’d lost. For what his life had become. For what his life would be after this was all over. Because if he was going to take down what her father had created, then there would be no peace for him. No rest.
“You can’t,” she said before she could think better of it. “Elijah, when is it going to stop?”
“When is what going to stop?”
They’d come out onto the Esplanade now, the glittering blue of the river in front of them, the skyscrapers behind. He was scanning around at the crowds of people moving up and down the walkway, or standing to look at the view, or sitting on the benches lining the riverside.
“This need for revenge.”
He stilled all of a sudden and his sharp-edged gaze came to rest on her. For a moment the walls behind his eyes dropped away and she could finally see the grief and rage that burned inside. The fuel he’d used to burn away the man he’d once been.
“Never,” he said softly, almost gently. “It will never stop.”
Violet couldn’t speak, her throat locking up entirely, the sadness crushing, and she didn’t know why.
Of course you know why. You haven’t just fallen for him. You’re in love with him.
Oh excellent. She’d fallen in love with her captor. A man who had revenge running through his veins instead of blood. A man who would destroy himself pursuing it because he could not let the past go.
Like you’re any better yourself.
Hell, she knew that. Constantly moving, constantly flitting from one thing to another, pursuing academia because she had to fill the hole inside with something. A hole that had only gotten wider now that she’d found out about her father. Who knew how long it would take her to put that behind her? And apart from any of that, hadn’t she come here with Elijah for revenge herself?
He’d glanced away from her, tugging her closer. Putting his phone in his pocket, he drew her over to the edge of the walkway closest to the river, where a wooden railing stood between the walkway and the river’s edge.
There were a couple of tourists beside them, looking at the view and pointing out various landmarks on a map they held between them. On a bench not far away was a man in a tan overcoat, reading a paper, a young couple beside him laughing and talking.
It was a beautiful day and it felt like all of New York was out here enjoying it.
A normal day.
She watched the crowd move past, feeling battered by the emotions tangling themselves up inside her. Grief for Elijah. Hurt for him too. Fear of what was going to happen, both to herself and to him. There would be no good outcomes, would there?
“Good morning, Mr. Hunt.” The voice was light, male, accented.
Violet turned and saw that an older man in a black coat had appeared out of the crowds and was now standing beside Elijah, his arms resting casually on the wooden railing. He was of average height, nondescript, his narrow, sharp face directed toward the view in front of them.
She stared at him. Holy shit, was this Jericho? Europe’s shadiest crime lord? Jesus, he looked like someone’s bachelor uncle.
“Jericho, I presume?” Elijah’s tone was arctic. He’d changed his grip on her, his fingers now tight around her upper arm as if holding her there to prevent her escape.
“Yes,” the man said. “That is one of my names.”
Elijah had turned around so his back was to the railing, looking at the crowds moving along the walkway. “Prove it.”
The man laughed. “Tiresome of you. Why should I?”
“Because I’m not giving Miss Fitzgerald to any random prick.”
The man was smiling, his attention on the water in front of him. “In that case you have my word.”
“Your word?” Scorn dripped from Elijah’s voice. “I don’t give a shit about your word. Not when you’ve broken it once already.”
“Ah. You’re annoyed I changed the meeting time.” Jericho shifted against the railings. “Really, Mr. Hunt, did you expect me to obey all your commands like a good little dog? I’m not that kind of man.”
“I don’t care what kind of man you are. If I asked for a personal meeting with Jericho, then I expect a personal meeting with Jericho.”
The man turned to look at Elijah. He was smiling pleasantly, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Let’s move all this posturing along, shall we? Firstly, I don’t like surprises, and learning of Fitzgerald’s death was a surprise I didn’t need. Secondly, I assume the reason you contacted me in the first place is that you’ve decided you’re taking over your boss’s operations and want the same trade concessions he asked for in exchange for the woman.”
Elijah didn’t speak, letting the silence sit there in a way that was familiar to Violet.
She supposed she should be appearing scared and trying to pull away to make sure she looked like Elijah’s unwilling captive. It wouldn’t take much since she was definitely quite scared already. And yet there was something off here, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Jericho hadn’t even looked at her, not once. Strange when such a secretive man was willing to meet with Elijah just so he could get his hands on her.
“The strong silent type, I see,” Jericho went on when Elijah remained quiet. “Useful in an employee. Except you don’t seem the kind who follows orders well, Mr. Hunt.”
Elijah shifted and Violet felt herself pulled slightly in front of him, so she stood between him and Jericho. This time, the man glanced at her and then away again, completely without reaction.
“I told you I wanted to meet with you alone,” Elijah said coldly.
Violet blinked, surreptitiously scanning the area. She hadn’t noticed anyone but the general public.
Jericho lifted a shoulder. “You can’t expect me to come without some sort of protection.”
“Send them the fuck away.”
Jericho lifted a brow. “You’re in no position to make demands.”
Elijah moved again and Violet felt something cold and hard pressing into her side. She stiffened, her heartbeat suddenly veering out of control. It was Elijah’s gun.
“Send them away or I’ll shoot her.” Elijah’s voice was flat and uninflected, terrifying.
Do you trust me, Violet?
He wouldn’t shoot her, he wouldn’t. She did trust him.
Jericho frowned. “That seems … drastic.”
“You think I won’t? She’s nothing to me.”
Violet knew he wouldn’t harm her and yet fear threaded its way through her bloodstream all the same. Turned out acting the part of fright
ened captive wasn’t so difficult after all.
“If she dies, you won’t get your trading concessions,” Jericho pointed out.
“Then I guess it all depends on how badly you want her.” Elijah pressed the gun harder against her. “Make a decision, prick. You have five seconds.”
This was a bluff. That’s all it was.
What if it isn’t? What if you’re not worth more than his revenge?
No, she couldn’t think that. He’d promised her she’d be safe and she believed him.
Jericho was silent for what seemed like far longer than five seconds. Then he sighed. “Very well, if it’ll make you happier.” He straightened and made a flicking gesture with his hand. Instantly the tourists leaning against the railings moved away, as did a man taking pictures off to their left and the man in the overcoat on the bench.
Violet shivered. They’d been surrounded and she hadn’t seen a thing.
“Now, shall we get to the point?” Jericho sounded bored. “The woman comes with me.”
Elijah’s hand tightened on her upper arm, his body a warm, strong presence at her back. “Come and get her then.”
A crowd of rowdy teenagers obviously out on a school trip was coming closer, shouts and catcalls echoing in the air.
“Certainly,” Jericho said. “Put your gun away first.”
“Sure.” Elijah’s voice was calm.
And suddenly Violet found herself pushed out of the way as he lurched toward Jericho, looking like he’d tripped over something. His free hand came out, flailing, gripping onto the other man and pulling him close as if he was stopping himself from falling.
Jericho cursed, starting to pull away, his hand reaching for something in his overcoat, but it was too late.
As the crowd of schoolchildren moved level with them, Violet heard the sound of a muffled report. Jericho’s eyes widened and his mouth opened as Elijah slid an arm around him. It looked like he was suddenly unable to stand.
Elijah frowned, looking deeply concerned. “Are you all right, sir?” he asked, his voice carrying despite the noise of the school group. Jericho’s mouth moved but no sound came out. He’d slumped heavily against Elijah, the color slowly draining from his face.
Elijah glanced once at Violet, a clear warning in his eyes, then he lifted his head and started looking around at the crowds as if for help. “Someone call nine one one,” he said loudly, his tone a little desperate. “This man needs a doctor.”
People began to stare as Elijah helped Jericho over to the park bench where the man in the tan overcoat had been. The young couple looked up in alarm and scooted clear to make way. Then the young woman began talking and moving in to help while the man took his phone out of his pocket.
A small crowd began to gather, blocking her view of Elijah and Jericho.
Her heartbeat was loud in her head and she knew she should probably get clear and wait somewhere quiet for Elijah until the fuss had died down. Except she didn’t want to. She wanted to stay near him, make sure he was okay. Because it was obvious what had happened. He had shot Jericho. He’d finally taken his revenge.
Are you sure you want to stay? It’s over now. Perhaps he won’t want you anymore now that he’s gotten what he wanted.
She didn’t like that thought, it made her feel small and cold. Made her conscious of that hole inside her, the hunger that craved him and his heat. That made her so vulnerable.
Trying to calm her breathing, she backed away from the knot of people around the bench. But the cold feeling wouldn’t go away and she couldn’t work out why she was now even more terrified than she had been before, especially since the danger was over.
Then she backed into someone standing beside her.
She began to turn, her mouth already open, an apology at the ready. But a hand came up and covered her mouth and nose, pinching hard and cutting off her air.
Fear burst like a star in her head, a scream building in her throat. A scream that had no outlet. Her lungs burned and bright lights seem to explode in her vision.
Her last thought before the blackness came was that being kidnapped was getting really old.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Elijah moved away from Jericho, using the press of the crowd around the park bench to surreptitiously fade into the background. The woman who’d been sitting on the bench with her boyfriend had taken over, and she must have had some kind of medical training because she was issuing instructions while her boyfriend called an ambulance.
It was too late, though. Jericho would be dead within minutes.
But as Elijah faded into the crowd, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been easy. Way too easy. A simple feint that Jericho had fallen for and now the guy was dead. It could not be that simple.
Something had been “off” about the whole interaction, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. He hadn’t missed that Jericho hadn’t once looked in Violet’s direction, not until he’d put her in front of the other man. Only then had Jericho looked. And even then it had been a simple once-over. Not the response of someone who was desperate to get his hands on her, that was for certain.
Unless he was bluffing, which could be one explanation.
Yet still. That didn’t explain the niggling in his gut that told him he was missing something.
You’ve had that feeling once before, haven’t you?
He ignored the thought, walking away from the crowd around the bench, wanting to put as much distance between him and Jericho as he could. It wouldn’t take long for people to figure out the guy had been shot, and probably they’d soon start looking for him.
He scanned the area as he walked, trying to see where Violet had gone. He’d given her a warning look as he’d caught Jericho, hoping she’d understand that he wanted her well away from the area. And it looked like she had, because he certainly couldn’t see her anywhere.
More crowds had started moving in and he could hear sirens. The ambulance would be here within minutes and no doubt the cops too, which meant he couldn’t be anywhere in the vicinity. Looked like Violet wasn’t either, because he sure as hell couldn’t see her.
Fuck. Where had she gone?
He kept his head down as he continued moving away from where he’d left Jericho, at the same time expanding his awareness of his surroundings, a little trick he’d learned while employed with Fitzgerald. But still he couldn’t see her.
You remember this, don’t you?
That fucking snide voice again. That cold, familiar feeling.
He tried to dismiss it. Perhaps he should double back, see if she’d gone in the other direction? Except that would bring him back past where Jericho was, and that would be a huge mistake.
He kept walking, bringing out his phone and dialing the number of the burner he’d given her before they’d left the apartment that morning. There was no response.
The cold feeling began to freeze into small kernels of ice, sharp edges digging into him.
Those flunkies of Jericho’s were still out there …
Elijah stopped and turned, looking back the way he’d come.
A large crowd had gathered around the park bench. Wouldn’t be long before the EMTs arrived. He spotted the dark uniform of a cop already shouldering through the crowd, which was pretty much his cue to get away as quickly as he possibly could, and yet … no Violet.
Where the fuck was she?
He turned back around, the ice beginning to settle in his blood, clogging his veins.
This is what happened to Marie, remember?
Jesus. Like he could forget. They’d been out to dinner and were on their way out to get a cab. She’d had to make a detour to visit the bathroom and he’d told her he’d wait outside for her. He’d waited five minutes, then ten, then fifteen. Getting more and more annoyed by how long she was taking. Never once had it crossed his mind that something was terribly wrong. Not until he’d gone back to look for her and no trace of her had been found. No one at the restaurant had seen her go
into the bathroom, no one had seen her come out. She’d just … vanished.
He’d never seen Marie again.
Fuck, no. This was not happening, not again. Not to Violet.
A burst of adrenaline flooded through him, making him want to take out his Colt and start shooting. Making him want to grab someone—anyone—and demand they tell him where Violet was. A stupid and dangerous thing to want, because obviously that wasn’t going to help the situation, but nevertheless. He would not stand by while a woman he cared about was taken from him. Not again.
He wasn’t Kane Archer, first oblivious to the danger and then powerless to do anything about it. Weak and ineffectual, who’d believed the lies Fitzgerald had told him, the bait that had gotten Elijah to work for him. That once he’d proved his loyalty, his wife would be returned to him.
He was different now. Stronger. And that was not going to happen, not to Violet. If anyone—anyone at all—hurt her, they were looking at a death sentence. And he would be their fucking executioner.
Elijah, when is it going to stop?
Her voice seemed to echo in his head from out of the blue, but he shook it away. He didn’t care about whether it would stop or not. If they’d hurt her, they would pay. That’s all there was to it.
He began to walk on, this time not bothering to keep his head down, scanning the faces of the people around him, looking for spiky blonde hair and vivid blue-green eyes. For a lovely, passionate mouth and a strong, determined jawline. Looking every-fucking-where.
But she’d gone. She’d just fucking gone.
Rage started to rise, so strong and so hot, melting the ice, causing a red haze to cloud his vision. A real goddamn worry, since uncontrolled rage wasn’t going to help anyone, least of all Violet.
Christ, he needed to get his head back in the game. Put a lid on this anger. Try and figure out a plan to find her, not walk around aimlessly trying to see if he could spot her.
Except he couldn’t seem to get a handle on his emotions, especially that cold, cold feeling. Almost like … fear.
You should have kept a better eye on her. You should have talked through a plan with her in the taxi on the way here. You should have kept her close.
Kidnapped by the Billionaire Page 28