by Tessa Teevan
“Absolutely not.” Adrian’s insistent growl catches me off guard.
I jump at the sudden change in his demeanor. I take two steps back, wanting some distance, and the action causes his eyes to soften and his lips to draw in a tight line.
He flexes his fist open and shut several times before releasing a sigh. “Gabriella, if you want answers, I will give them. On the condition that it’s just you and me. There are things you must know. Things he cannot hear. And he cannot know where I am. No one can. It’s not safe.”
“What do you mean? What’s not safe?”
“My father. The Feds. Everyone’s looking for me.”
“Then why are you here?” It makes no sense. “Why haven’t you left the country?”
Adrian offers a small smile before taking my hand and bringing it to his lips, where he gives it a gentle kiss. “You, Gabriella. I’m risking it all because of you.”
I suck in a breath at his words. “Me?”
“This has always been about you. Everything I’ve done is for you and you alone.”
My mind’s reeling, and Adrian reads me correctly. He steps back, giving me space. He pulls a pen and leather wallet out of his pocket and removes a business card. Then he jots down something on the back. “If you’re willing to give me a chance, meet me at this address at the time noted. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
All I can do is nod. I don’t have to think about it. I already know I’ll be meeting Adrian when he wants. What I don’t know is how I’m going to slip away from Rafe.
Adrian takes a step closer, but when I give a slight shake of my head, not wanting his nearness, he stops immediately. His head cocks to the side, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows hard. He straightens his tie then clears his throat. And when his eyes meet mine, a rueful smile forms on his lips.
“I may have lied about many things, but this remains true: I love you, Gabriella. I will do so until my dying day.”
“Adrian,” I whisper. A finger to my lips stops my protest.
“I will win you back. No matter what I have to do.”
The feral look in his eyes tells me the truth.
It isn’t hyperbole. It’s a promise.
As I’m about to get into the car, I pause, my hand perched on the top of the door. “Adrian?” I call.
His temperament performs a swift one-eighty. It almost hurts to see the hopeful expression in his eyes. He honestly believes he still has a chance, but I know, to my core, no matter what answers he has for me, my heart is no longer his.
He takes one step closer, stretches a hand out, hesitates, and then pulls it back to his side. “What is it?”
“Is it true? Were you trying to kill me that night?”
I have no idea why I’m asking such a question. Call it morbid curiosity, but deep down in my soul, I need to know the truth.
His eyes flash with grief, and then dark waves of anger mask the emotion. I’m about to escape when he sighs, and the ire has been replaced with regret.
“No, Gabriella. I was trying to save you.”
“I WAS TRYING TO save you.”
I can’t get the words out of my mind. It’s like they’re playing on loop until they dig into my brain, burrowing so deep that I’ll never be able to escape them.
Before I can get my wits about me and ask for clarification, Adrian closes the distance between us and pulls me from the car and into his arms. I stand there, stock-still, as he wraps me in a surprisingly warm embrace. His head sinks, burying into the nape of my neck. I’d be lying if I said goose bumps don’t pebble my flesh when he inhales the scent of my skin.
“Adrian,” I whisper, wanting to push him away yet finding myself unable to do so. Something about this moment feels so right, even though my brain is screaming at me that it’s oh so wrong.
Perhaps I’m not as unbound to Adrian’s hold on me as I’d thought. The thought is enough for confusion and trepidation to seize hold of my head—and my heart. I freeze, blinking back errant tears I don’t quite understand. Beautiful memories cascade over me as he envelopes me in the warmth of his arms, and I can’t help the whimper that escapes my lips. From fear, longing, or complete shock, I’m not sure.
Why here? Why now?
They’re questions that would go unanswered.
He, however, reads me perfectly. Just as Adrian always had.
Without a word, he releases me from his hold. A strong, chilled hand rises to my face, where he trace a line from my temple to my jaw with his knuckles. Before I can react, he cups my chin, tilts my head back, and lowers his lips to mine, giving me the barest whisper of a kiss.
And then, as suddenly as he’d appeared, he’s gone.
Once again, I’m all alone.
The ride back into the city is silent save for all the wild, running thoughts in my mind. What had just happened?
The man at the cemetery was the Adrian I’d fallen in love with. That was the Adrian I’d wished to spend the rest of my life with. Why had he disappeared on me all those months ago? And more importantly, why was he back?
He was saving me? What could he possibly have meant?
It’s not until I’m nearly back to the hotel that I summon up the courage to call Rafe. Not because I;m afraid to tell him what I’d encountered, but because my emotions are running haywire and the last thing he needs to deal with is my unresolved feelings for my ex.
Who technically never became my ex.
Once again, Rafe doesn’t answer my call.
The rampancy of my emotional turmoil had my head pounding, so as soon I’m back in my room—still free of Rafe—I pour a warm bubble bath and sink deep into the depths of the tub. I try with all my might to get Adrian off my mind, to the point that my head starts to ache again, but I continuously fail.
So here I am, perplexed, frustrated, and unable to turn off my brain. Sighing, I allow the water to drain, wishing my emotions would swirl down along with it.
Just as I’m about to call Rafe for the third time since I’ve been back, I hear a knock at the door. I freeze, startled by the sudden noise. My unexpected visitor knocks again, this time with more impatience. I rise from the tub and fling my robe on, not bothering to dry myself off, amused that Rafe must’ve forgotten his room key.
After running across the room, I almost throw the door open, but I remember Rafe’s warning to always check the peephole.
When I do, I gasp audibly, giving away any chance of pretending I’m not here. Slowly, I undo the locks and open the door.
Then I stare out into the hall in disbelief at the woman standing in front of me.
“Hello, Brie,” she says in an all-too-familiar voice, albeit one I haven’t heard in ages.
“Dr. Sheridan?” My brows wrinkle in confusion. “What…what are you doing here? How did you find me?”
She gestures towards the hotel room behind me. “May I come in?”
“Oh, of course,” I tell her, widening the door just enough for her to enter. I peek my head out into the hallway, but find it’s completely empty.
Where the hell is Rafe, and how in the hell did this woman, my childhood doctor, know I was here?
When I pull myself back into the room and close the door, I ensure that all the locks are in place. Then I turn to face her. She’s set her briefcase on a table in the corner of a room.
“Would you like a drink? Water, or perhaps tea?” I ask, trying not to showcase how her presence confounds me.
She smiles, shaking her head. “I’m fine. It’s nice to see you again, Brie.” She cocks her head to the side and studies me. “Other than your little mishap, you look as stunning as ever. So much like your mother.”
I swallow hard, blinking back tears at the heartache of missing Mom. This day. It’s all too much. Perhaps coming to Chicago was a mistake after all.
I shake the thought from my head and steady my nerves. “What are you doing here? How…how did you find me? How did you even know I was in town?”
&n
bsp; She offers a friendly smile and gestures towards my head, which I inadvertently touch, wincing as pain slices through me. “I had no idea you were back in town until Mr. Morningstar called.”
Oh.
Mr. Morningstar. Of course. Adrian had insisted I needed to see a doctor. Lord, could he ever take no for an answer?
That’s the last thing I want to contemplate right now.
“I see.”
“He was quite panicked, insisting I rush over here immediately to give you a thorough examination. Something about you refusing to go to the hospital, and he wanted to bend you over his knee like a petulant child.”
I gasp, taking a step back from her. “Excuse me?”
Her answer smile is meant to be reassuring, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes the way I remember it doing when I was younger. There’s something there I can’t read. Before I can ask, she waves a delicate hand in the air as if to erase the thought.
“He was only teasing, sweetheart. As you know, I don’t usually do house calls, but he insisted, so here I am.”
“I’m fine, Dr. Sheridan. Honestly, it’s just a scratch. While it’s nice to see an old familiar face around here, I’m quite tired and would like to catch up on my rest. Please thank Mr. Morningstar for me.” I try to dismiss her, but she doesn’t budge.
“Listen, I’m under strict orders not to leave until I’ve examined your wound. Please, make this easier on both of us. I’ll be thorough, but I promise to be as swift as possible.” She gives me an encouraging smile, to which I simply nod.
“I’m sorry. I’m quite tired and I’m afraid I’m not feeling like myself today.”
She smiles. “You’ve had an exciting day. Let’s begin the exam.”
I sigh then do as she requested. The sooner I comply, the sooner I’ll be alone again.
After her poking, prodding, and—much to my chagrin—her stitching, she declares I’m in almost good health.
“Your head wound was deeper than I was expecting, but you show no signs of concussion. Please keep the area clean and dry. If you’re still in town, visit me to have your stitches removed in two weeks.”
“Of course,” I tell her, lying through my teeth. I have no plans to see her now that she’s part of this whole peculiar charade. “Anything else?”
She hesitates before turning back to me, a hand on her hip. “Are you sure you won’t go to the hospital for a more thorough exam? Mr. Morningstar would feel better if you did so. Especially with the baby.”
My cheeks flame, and my hand settles protectively on my still mostly flat belly. “We’re fine. I assure you.”
She nods promptly. “If you’re sure…” she says, trailing off.
“I am. I’ll see you out,” I tell the doctor, gesturing towards the door, eager to get her out of my room. She pauses, watching me more intently than I’m comfortable with. “If I start to feel ill or dizzy, or if my headache doesn’t go away anytime soon, I promise I’ll go straight to the emergency room.”
That seems to satisfy her. She gives me a tight nod and packs up her briefcase. As she’s leaving, she turns and give me a sweet smile that isn’t quite convincing. “Thank you for being so cooperative, Brie.”
I nod, anything to get her out of this hotel room. “Of course. It was nice seeing you again. Please give Mr. Morningstar my thanks.”
“I will. The health of the mother of his unborn grandchild is his highest priority.”
Her words send a chill deep into my bones. Before I can respond, she slips through the door and closes it behind her.
His grandchild?
The meaning of Adrian’s claim of danger finally makes all the sense in the world.
Earlier that morning
BRIE’S SOUND ASLEEP, HER cheek pressed against my chest, rising and falling as I breathe, my eyes counting the lines on the ceiling over and over again. I’ve been restless ever since we found her father’s letter with its cryptic postmark. We’ve been too narrow-minded, too focused on only one piece of art—the painting in the storage unit. Neither of us would’ve guessed her father had used various pieces of sentimental art from her childhood to lead the way. Then again, knowing Andrew Latham, who knew his daughter well, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise.
P.S. The painting over the dining table? It’ll guide you to the next location, which will give you what he’s looking for. Find it, Brie. Finish what I couldn’t.
Brie claimed pregnancy brain was blocking her memory, and she hoped that after a good night’s sleep, she’d wake up with the answer.
I don’t want to wait that long. I want this over. Now.
I know what I have to do. Return to the house and hope like hell another surprise doesn’t await me. All I need is a minute, to get in and out quickly without being seen.
Kinda like how I need to get out of this bed right now.
Early morning sunlight peeks through the curtains, a symphony of car horns welcoming the day accompanies it. I know the sooner I leave, the better, the more likely I can sneak out without waking Brie. Because I know she’ll insist on joining me.
I don’t want to leave her alone, but it’s better if I do this without her. For her sake, and the baby’s, I want to minimize the stress of the situation as much as possible. Which is why she shouldn’t even be here.
But that’s a battle I knew better than to fight.
I quickly dress, then holster my gun, stopping to look down at her before I go.
In her slumber, she’s so vulnerable. So innocent. So breathtakingly beautiful with her dark hair fanned out on her pillow, her sweet lips slightly parted. Her chest rising and falling under the comforter, the tops of her supple breasts giving me just a peek. Her hand resting on her belly as if to protect our child even in her sleep. I resist the urge to lean down and place a kiss on her forehead
After walking around to my side of the bed, I scrawl out a note for her, just in case she wakes before I’m able to get back. When I slip out of the room, she doesn’t even stir.
My hands flex on the wheel the closer I am to her childhood home. I’m not sure why I did it, but I’m thankful to have had the wherewithal to leave a window unlocked at the back of the house. That way, I won’t have to break in. It can be a clean job and no one will be the wiser that I was even there. All I have to do was slip inside, take a snapshot of the painting, and slip right back out.
Easy as fucking pie. This way, Brie won’t have to rack her brain trying to remember.
I park down the street from the house and get out, scanning the area. It’s a quiet Sunday morning, hours before the church crowd will be leaving their homes. Five minutes. That’s all the time I need. In and out. And then, hopefully, we’ll be that much closer to putting this whole thing behind us.
At least I hope so. It feels like every step closer I take, more questions arise. Why would Morningstar have bought this house after the murders? A sick shrine to give to Brie one day as some sort of way to prove his fucked-up love for her? Or, worse, to taunt her?
Or does he want to finish the job he’d started and get back into Daddy’s good graces?
On that thought alone, the most critical question twists in the back of my mind.
Where the fuck is that bastard?
Before I can entertain the thought, my phone rings. It could only be one of three people, and without even looking at the screen, I know that it’s the last one I want to hear from.
“Boss,” I answer, leaning back against the rental car and holding the phone to my ear. Talk about bad fucking timing.
“When were you going to tell me, Matthews?” His harsh tone catches me off guard.
My heartbeat quickens as my eyes dart up and down the street, looking for someone. Something. The idea that the boss is surveilling me in Chicago hadn’t even crossed my mind. Not until now. Which is stupid, because why wouldn’t he?
This is why I shouldn’t have let Brie come. She’s a distraction—a most gratifying one, but a distraction nonetheless.
Or anyone.
The boss clears his throat, regaining my attention.
“Sir?”
“About the baby, Matthews. You kept that from me, and I want to know why. This changes everything.”
The glee in his voice unsettles me. Why would he care? What could it possibly change? Trying to exude a sense of calm I don’t feel, I voice those questions.
And then, with a boisterous laugh, he answers me, informing me of the abominable plans he has for Brie. For the child..
I bite back the response that’s on the tip of my tongue.
Over my dead fucking body.
Thing was… I’m not exactly sure that won’t happen.
Not if he has anything to say about it.
By the time we hang up, I’m frantic. I don’t even care if the bastard’s having me watched. I immediately call Brie, desperate to hear her voice, to know she’s safely tucked away in the hotel room.
She doesn’t answer.
“Answer the goddamn phone!”
My fist slams into the steering wheel harder than I intended. I’ve called Brie seven times in the last forty minutes. With each call that goes straight to voicemail, my uneasiness heightens. Sick knots twist in my stomach, and I swear to God, if he’s touched a single hair on her head, he’s a dead man.
I beat the steering wheel at the sound of her mailbox greeting.
Fucking hell. I never should’ve left her alone in the hotel room.
Then again, there’s no way I could’ve taken her with me.
Besides, Theo can’t have her. He ended our phone call by summoning me to his estate--and I’ve been ordered to bring Brie there. To deliver her to him into open, treacherous arms, where he plans to keep her until she gives birth.
Yeah, the sick fuck Theo Morningstar not only knows that Brie’s pregnant, but he’s under the impression that the baby she carries is his grandchild. His new heir now that Adrian’s dishonored him.