I pushed that last thought away, shaking my head. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s go. We’ll take my car.”
“Hell yes,” Esteban said, clapping his hands. “I’ve never ridden in a BMW before.”
I shook my head and went for my vehicle. I had parked far enough away that, aside from the rain of soot that coated it like a gray dust, the car was untouched. We piled into the vehicle, Julio taking the back seat and Esteban the front. Julio had his phone to his ear and was speaking in rapid-fire Spanish. I could catch about one word in thirty. If he were speaking French, I would have had a better idea.
“Where are we going?” I growled.
Esteban pulled up the GPS coordinates. “Just follow the sweet sound of Siri’s voice, man. We’ll get there.”
I put the car into gear and, after getting waved through the police barricade, sped down the empty streets. “Call Fiona,” I barked at them. “She’ll think of something and call in the cops.”
After a little argument, in which I swerved hard enough to press them against one side of the car, they acquiesced. I wove through traffic and tried to focus on my breathing, to keep myself centered on the confrontation that was sure to come. If he’s hurt her, I’ll kill him.
Hang on, my love, I prayed. I’m coming for you.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Veronica
Dicky pulled my running top taut and slipped a blade between it and my skin. I hissed as cool metal ran a gentle finger up my stomach, and then the shirt was cut through, as easy as a knife through butter. I was still wearing a sports bra underneath, but the man reached for it.
I struggled. I thrashed away from him, eyes wide. “No! Stop.”
He did, the dull shine of the weapon like a bright star. I could not look away. “Want to tell us what you know?” He asked, though disappointment colored his tone.
I shook my head, “No, it’s just—don’t we need to warm up to that? To those?”
Light gleamed in his pale grey eyes, and I shuddered. He lowered the tip of the blade and traced a curving line along the flesh of my belly. My muscles wanted to twitch and jump under that touch, but I held them back. “You want to start on that already?”
I was not sure what ‘that’ entailed, but I gave a shallow nod. Lucas swore, but Dicky grinned.
“How many animals have you skinned, Veronica?”
Cold. A terrible cold washed over me at those words. He wasn’t—he couldn’t be implying what I thought he was. I licked my lips. “Delly.”
He tilted his head.
“My friends call me Delly,” I said. It was a lie. Only Jason had ever called me that, and I swore he knew that it annoyed me. It was a stupid nickname. But I wanted to get this man talking about, thinking about, anything but what had just put that glimmer in his eye.
He scraped the knife over the skin around my belly button. I gasped. He grinned again, and the light was back. “Delly,” he crooned. “Where do you want to start? Here?” He drew the blade across my stomach again, and I suppressed the urge to shudder. “Or here?” He ran it up the inside of my arm, just above my armpit. “Or… here?” He tapped the tip of one finger. “I’ve heard here is the worst, but I wouldn’t know. It’ll happen to you, don’t you worry, but it just depends on what order you want it. Save the worst for last? Or get it over with first? Decisions, decisions.”
Where the hell did Jason find this guy? I thought. This is far from normal.
“Stop it, Dicky,” Lucas snapped. “I don’t want to be here all fucking night. Not like last time,” he added in a mutter.
I wanted to scream. Scream and scream. This was a monster. Dicky was a monster. He wanted to skin me.
I swallowed and tried to keep my expression bland. This was going to end one of two ways, and one of those ways was unacceptable. This was not how I died. I had too much left to do, so much left to see. No one was going to take that from me.
So, it had to be the other way; I had to live. Somehow, I had to survive this night.
“Eenie, meanie, miney,” Dicky sang, tapping each of the three spots. “Mo. Catch a tiger by. It’s. Toe.” He slowed, drawing out each sound. “If. He. Hollers. Let. Him. Go. Eenie,” the arm. “Meanie,” the stomach. “Miney,” the finger. “Mo.” His blade landed and stuck on my arm.
The tip of the blade dimpled my flesh, and I strained away from him, but there was nowhere for my arm go but through the table, and the table was solid steel. There was a strained moment, and then my skin gave way, parting before the point of that knife. It slid inside me, foreign and wrong, and I began to cry out, soft and drawn at first but gaining in volume.
Then it was yanked out of me, and Dicky was jerked backward.
I looked around and saw Ethan. My heart soared.
Oh, thank God, he’s safe.
But now he was grappling with the shorter man, and Lucas was coming up from behind him. I screamed, “Look out!” Ethan turned just in time, putting Dicky between them, holding him in a chokehold.
Lucas paused, and I heard a familiar voice ring out, “Veronica!”
I turned my head the other way and saw Esteban and Julio racing toward me. “Are you okay?” Esteban asked, relief and concern flooding his features.
“I’m fine,” I rasped, “Please get me out of these chains.”
The men started working at my bonds, and I looked back at where Ethan fought two men, lips curled back in a snarl. Lucas stood in a relaxed stance, eyes assessing as Ethan continued to choke Dicky. His arm was covered in scratches from Dicky’s struggling, and I winced as Esteban tugged the chains binding my arms tighter, pain rippling across my back.
“Lo siento,” he murmured. “Lo siento.”
“Jason’s in the office,” I said, keeping my voice low so as not to distract Ethan. “Have you called the cops?”
“They’re on their way,” Esteban said. “Fiona called them.”
Julio got my feet free, slicing through the duct tape with one of the knifes that had been left behind. As he did, Dicky sagged, pulling Ethan with him to the floor. I saw Lucas tense and said, “Help him!”
My friends leapt up and dashed toward the coming fight between Lucas and Ethan. Lucas managed to get a kick in, hitting Ethan on the ribs, before Esteban and Julio were on him, pulling him away. Ethan sprang up and forward, clocking the man across the jaw once, twice, three times before he slumped between the arms that held him.
And then his attention snapped to me, and the world narrowed down. I let loose a sob, straining against the chains that still held my arms to the table. He strode to me, eyes dancing over my face, my body. “Are you okay?”
“Ethan,” I cried, my voice thick. “Help me.”
He noticed the chains and his lips thinned as Julio and Esteban returned to the table. Esteban was fiddling with a key ring, sorting through them until— “Here we go,” he said. “This one looks like it should do it.” He bent, and the lock snicked open. A moment later I was able to pull my bound arms down, across my chest, my back and shoulders crying out in relief.
Ethan gathered me to him, cradling me against his chest. “Who did this?” He asked, his voice a raw rumble.
He knew. He must. “Jason,” I said, my voice trembling. “He’s in the office.
Ethan pushed away from me, face set in determination, then nodded to each of our coworkers. “Stay with her.”
I made a move toward him, but Julio stopped me. “Let’s get that off you,” he said, hands moving over the wrapped chains that still bound my wrists.
Julio got my wrists free just as Ethan kicked open the door to the office. I heard a scream and was running before either of the boys could grab me. My head pounded in tune with my footfalls, but I didn’t care. I didn’t know if Jason was armed, and I didn’t want Ethan facing him alone.
I came to the doorway in time to see Jason backed against the wall, his hands upraised, a wide, frantic look in his eyes. “It wasn’t me, man,” he babbled. “I just got here. I was looking for a weapon, I
wanted to help her, I swear.”
Somehow I had one of those knives in my hands, though I did not remember grabbing one. My wrists burned from where the metal links had cut into my flesh, but that didn’t matter now. What mattered was that Ethan was approaching Jason with murder in his eyes, and he didn’t see that Ethan was sliding one hand down to his waist. I didn’t want to know what he might have.
“You are lying,” Ethan said, his tone still low. “You—”
He didn’t finish. Jason had grasped the knife at his side and brought it up in an arced slash. Ethan leaped back, but not fast enough to avoid the cutting blow to his temple. Blood washed into his eyes, blinding him. Jason started to move forward, but I was already coming. He hadn’t seen me.
I cried out as I brought my arm up, aiming for his shoulder. I knew next to nothing when it came to fighting with blades, but one thing must be true—stick them with the business end.
Jason managed to turn before I could get to him, going on the defensive as I pursued. But he didn’t move fast enough to avoid me altogether, and my knife slipped through the flesh of his arm, a wash of crimson running down his left side. He cried out in fear or panic, eyes wide, and his next slash was sloppy. Even I could see that. I avoided it and grasped his wrist before he could bring it back down.
I was struggling with him, fighting for control of that arm, when another hand wrapped around mine. Ethan stood there, blood wiped from his eyes, scowling down at the smaller man. I pulled my hand out of their grip and Ethan dug in with those fantastic fingers of his. Jason snarled, but his grip loosened and I was able to pluck the knife from his fingers.
Ethan reared back and brought his knee up into Jason’s chest. The man grunted and fell backward, his arm wrenched as Ethan kept hold of it. Down, I landed a few kicks of my own to his chest and stomach. Jason coughed, and blood splattered the dirty cement floor.
Then Ethan’s hands were on my shoulders, and he was pulling me away from the slumped figure of my ex on the floor, groaning as he held his abdomen. “Veronica. It’s okay now.” He gave me a tentative smile. “We’ll stay here until the cops come.”
I started to shake as I heard sirens fast approaching. I couldn’t stop.
Ethan wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me against him. He smelled of smoke. He kissed the top of my head and I trembled even more. I felt cold.
“Shh,” he said. “It’s okay, it’s all over now. You’re safe. I’ll always keep you safe.”
I nodded against him. My teeth were beginning to chatter. “I’m so glad y-you’re okay,” I murmured.
“I am too,” he said. He tightened his grip and I felt a little warmth against the encroaching chill. “I love you, Veronica. I love you.”
I felt tears fall again but, this time, there was pleasure mixed in with the hurt and pain. I could barely choke out the words through the emotions rising within me. “I know. I love you, too.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Veronica
“Two bruised ribs, a dislocated wrist, severe concussion, multiple lacerations and severe contusions,” the doctor read off my chart with a low whistle. “Well, Ms. Delaware, you certainly had a day.”
I smiled a little. Half my face was still too swollen to work, but I didn’t care. That’s how these pain drugs worked—you still hurt, you just don’t care about it as much. Most of the wounds she spoke of I had not felt until I was well on my way to the emergency room. Shock and adrenaline were a marvelous thing.
Ethan shifted in the chair next to my bed. The doctor flicked her eyes over to him and frowned, “And you are?” She asked.
“Her boyfriend,” he said.
I saw the doctors eyes narrow as she glanced between his broken and bandaged hand and my mangled face. I raised a hand. The IV needle moved a bit when I did and I winced, lowering it again. “He wasn’t the one that did this.”
The woman raised an eyebrow and glanced at the police officer standing in the doorway, his back to the room. Sudden understanding blossomed over her face, “Ah,” she said. “I see. You’re the Sanger party.”
I tried to wrinkle my nose, but it wouldn’t work right, “Oh, please don’t call us that,” I slurred.
Ethan reached for my hand with his one good one and wrapped his fingers around me. The doctor watched my reaction and nodded her acceptance. “Okay then. Well, Ms. Delaware, we’re going to have you under monitoring for twenty-four hours because of the concussion, and after that we’ll know about when you can expect to be release.”
I nodded, “Thank you.”
She paused and took a step forward until her hand rested at the foot of the hospital bed. Her voice lowered, “Is it true what they’re saying in the ER? You were kidnapped?”
I didn’t respond, but I saw Ethan nod.
The doctor let out a breath and laughed. She lowered her voice still further until it was a whisper, “Well, you gave as good as you got.”
I thought about Ethan and a few well-placed kicks before the police surged into the warehouse and smiled. “Oh? I hope he pulls through.”
No one was fooled. I had never sounded so sarcastic in my life.
The doctor nodded and left the room after upping my dose of pain medication a little further. I sighed as the medicine worked its way through my IV line and turned my head so I could look at Ethan.
He smiled at me, “Are you okay?”
I smiled back, “I’m sure I look terrible, don’t I?”
He released my hand to run his fingers along the uninjured side of my face. His own bore a few black stitches, and his arms were bandaged from where Dicky had gouged at his nails, but he still looked as handsome as ever. “You’re beautiful.”
“Liar.”
“I told you I would never lie to you.”
We talked and I drifted into a haze of not-quite-sleep. Nurses came in every half hour to check up on me, and after a while the visitors started to flow in. I don’t think the police officer quite knew what to do with all of them, but none were to be denied.
Fiona had tears in her brown eyes, “Oh my God, he was in my building. Veronica, I’m so, so sorry. I should have—”
“Shut up,” I groused. I was tired and the pain meds were beginning to wear off. “It’s not your fault.”
Julio and Esteban recounted the incident to anyone that would listen and pulled out a bottle of tequila to pass around. That had the nurse in hysterics when she caught on, and she shunted the two out the room. They swayed and laughed as they left, but they left a flask for me, tucked out of sight under my blanket. I handed it to Ethan as soon as they were gone, afraid to mix my poison.
Mr. Simmons, his usual immaculate suit in disarray and a hollow look in his eyes, told us that Poisson was ruined. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, “We’ll rebuild, of course, but for now—”
“We’re out of a job,” I finished for him.
He nodded. I sighed and Fiona’s hand squeezed down on my shoulder. Her boyfriend, George, stood behind her and did the same to hers. We were like a human chain.
Mr. Simmons brightened a little, “But I can guarantee that you will have a place when Poisson opens its doors again. Each of you, save you Mr. Craymore since you’re new, have some vacation weeks squirreled away so I can offer you that, but no more.”
When he left, the mood was gloomy. I sighed, “Well, that sucks.”
“I think I have enough savings, plus the vacation hours, to make it until then,” Fiona said. “But...” her eyes brightened.
I raised my one working eyebrow at her, “What?”
“Maybe this is what we were waiting for, Veronica. We’ve always wanted to open our own place.”
I wanted to laugh, looking down at my shrouded body and taking stock of my injuries. “Fiona, you still want me as a business partner when I’m laid up in a hospital bed? You’re either insane or incredibly sweet.”
“Incredibly sweet,” she said at once. “Sell your condo—”
“—my bla
ckened hulk of a condo,” I grumbled.
“Land is land, and this is San Francisco,” she said. “Now shut up. Sell it. You might be surprised. I can borrow from my parents and we can do this. We can.”
Ethan squeezed my hand, “Give me a business plan and I’ll loan to you,” he said.
“No,” we both said at once, and then grinned at each other.
“I’m already indebted to you,” I told Ethan. “No more.”
Fiona and I talked it over a little more, just the basic outline, but it was settled. We would try. She and George left with a final get-well-soon.
I sighed, sinking into the feeling of peace.
“Your mother called me,” Ethan said.
My eyes opened. I had almost fallen asleep. I blinked. “What?”
“Your mother. She called me.” He smiled, “How is it that everyone has my number?”
“I’ve maybe put you down as an emergency contact a few times,” I said sweetly.
He laughed. “Well, she got an unintelligible voicemail from Fiona and then couldn’t get in touch with her, so she called me. We talked while we were in the ER. She says she’s coming down to visit you.”
I groaned. “God, anything but that.”
“She seemed nice.”
“Wait until you have to spend a few days with her. Wait, scratch that, a few hours. She’ll be up our ass about living together without being married.”
He kissed my knuckles, “I suppose I shouldn’t give her the grand tour, then? I take it your mother wouldn’t appreciate the leather work?”
“I would hit you if I had the energy.”
He laughed, “Maybe we shouldn’t be here when she arrives.”
I peered at him. The hospital room had overhead lights, but they hurt my eyes. Only the light from the windows filtered in, the amber lights from the city flooding the room. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, let’s take a trip. When you’re well enough.”
I snorted, “That won’t be soon enough to escape my mom.”
“No, but we should take a vacation. I’ll take you to France. Paris for a few weeks, and then a country tour, perhaps. I still can’t believe you’ve never been considering your chosen profession. What do you say?”
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