Chapter 20
Twenty
T he heavy thud of approaching footsteps sent a jolt through Noah Kandor’s spine. He sat up straighter, ignoring the sharp bite of steel against his wrists as the handcuffs rattled against the metal table. The air in the room felt thick, suffocating.
Across from him, Agents Lyle Garrison and Daniel Mitchell were murmuring, their words too low to catch—but their glances weren’t. Every shift of their eyes, every barely concealed smirk made Noah’s frustration coil tighter.
This was a game to them. A slow, methodical breakdown, where they kept him caged long enough for exhaustion to do the real damage.
The same questions had circled him like vultures, their voices cold, clipped, demanding:
"How do you know Robert Hilton?"
"Were you aware of Hilton’s location before he disappeared?"
"Who did you tell?"
"What information did he give you?"
It didn’t matter how he answered. They weren’t listening. Every denial was met with a skeptical pause, every truth picked apart for inconsistencies that didn’t exist. He’d asked for Ethan Hayes. He’d demanded an attorney. Nothing changed.
Until now.
A new set of footsteps echoed outside the door—steady, controlled, purposeful. Not the lazy shuffle of men who thought they already had their answers.
The door swung open.
Noah exhaled sharply as Ethan Hayes stepped inside, his sharp gaze cutting through the tension like a knife. His eyes flicked to Noah’s bound wrists, then to the agents hovering too close. He took it all in within seconds, his face hardening.
“Ethan,” Noah rasped, his voice hoarse from hours of this endless loop. His pulse hammered in his ears. “Thank God.” His throat tightened, and for the first time, desperation slipped through. “They won’t listen. You know me—I’m not dirty.”
Ethan’s expression didn’t change. Not outwardly. But Noah saw the way his jaw clenched, the way his shoulders went rigid. Then Ethan turned to the agents. His voice came out quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that preceded a storm.
“You two. Stop talking to him.”
Garrison shifted uncomfortably. “Sir, we’re just?—”
“How many times has he asked for an attorney?” Ethan’s voice was a razor’s edge.
Silence.
Garrison hesitated before stammering, “He isn’t under arrest. It’s just a conversation.”
Noah let out a breathless, humorless laugh. “Right. A friendly chat,” he muttered. The words were bitter, laced with exhaustion.
Ethan’s eyes darkened as he took a slow step forward. “A friendly chat,” he repeated, voice dropping to something almost lethal. “Tell me, did Kandor cuff himself to the damn table? Because, unless I’ve missed something, this —” he gestured at the restraints, his movements precise, controlled, “—looks a hell of a lot more like an interrogation than a chat.”
Neither agent spoke.
“Get out.” Ethan’s tone left no room for argument. “Now. My office. I want a full rundown of this,” he motioned toward Noah, “and if you so much as hesitate to explain why I walked in here to find a U.S. attorney’s investigator shackled to a table without cause, your badges will be on my desk by the end of the hour.”
Garrison and Mitchell looked at each other, weighing their options. Then, with barely concealed reluctance, they obeyed, shuffling out like chastised schoolboys.
As soon as the door shut, Ethan stepped toward Noah, pulling a key from his pocket. The sharp click of the cuffs unlocking was the sweetest sound Noah had heard in hours.
He exhaled shakily, rubbing at his raw wrists. “Thanks.” His voice was hoarse. “I was starting to think no one was coming.”
Ethan didn’t respond right away. He just watched him, his gaze assessing. Then, finally: “I’m going to fix this.”
Noah nodded, swallowing down the lingering unease. He had to believe that.
Ethan called for Agent Susan Romero, her no-nonsense stride filling the doorway within moments. “Sue, stay with Kandor. No one talks to him unless I say so.”
Romero gave a nod, her sharp gaze scanning the room before settling on Noah. There was no pity in her expression—just a silent, steady assurance. She wouldn’t let anything slip through the cracks.
Noah flexed his fingers, trying to shake the pins and needles from his hands. He managed a weak smile. “I appreciate it.”
Ethan didn’t linger. He strode out with the same unwavering certainty he’d walked in with, the door clicking shut behind him. For the first time in hours, the room felt less like a cage.
It wasn’t over. Not even close. But as Noah leaned back in his chair, rubbing his wrists, one thought settled in his mind: Ethan Hayes wasn’t going to let this go. And maybe—just maybe—Noah had a chance to walk out of here with his life intact.
* * *
The minute they stepped out of the FBI office, Ruth’s pulse was racing. She could feel Noah beside her, his presence steadying her even as it sent sparks down her spine. Every cell in her body screamed to pull him close, but she forced herself to keep her head down and her voice low.
“I want to hug you so badly,” she murmured, her words nearly drowned out by the din of the busy street. “But there are cameras everywhere.”
Noah’s jaw tightened, a flicker of pain and understanding crossing his face. He nodded slightly, his restraint evident in the way his hand only briefly brushed hers as they walked.
“I’ll drive you to my office,” she said, her voice soft but resolute. “Alex, you’re welcome to follow us, but once we make it into Blake Ellison’s office, you can’t stay in on the interview. Attorney-client privilege begins the moment we step inside. And your law degree holds a conflict of interest.”
Noah exhaled, his tone firm but low. “Alex, get my briefcase from Ethan. I’m sure he has a warrant to copy them by now. Move the files. Before they disappear.”
Alex gave a curt nod, disappearing back inside the building.
Ruth unlocked her car and motioned for Noah to climb in. Their mutually loud breathing filled the space and fogged the windows. She pulled into traffic, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white against the leather.
“Noah,” she began, her voice trembling as she glanced at him. “I need you to understand something. This… this is serious. We’re talking about possible federal charges—witness tampering, conspiracy. I’ve never dealt with charges like these. I’m terrified I’m going to mess this up, that I won’t be able to protect you.”
Noah turned to her, his eyes softening in a way that made her chest tighten. “Rae, you’re the only person I trust. If anyone can help me, it’s you. I haven’t been charged yet. Hopefully, I won’t be.”
Her lips quivered as she blinked back the sting of tears. She wanted to be strong for him, to prove she could handle this, but the enormity of the situation beat her down. His unwavering confidence in her only made her more worried.
When they arrived at Ellison & Grant, Ruth parked in the underground lot, leading Noah silently to the elevator. The ride up was tense, the air between them thick with tension and unspoken emotion.
As they stepped from the lobby into the corridor of offices, Ruth shot Melanie a sharp glance. “Hold my calls,” she said curtly before leading Noah to her private space. She shut the door firmly behind them, her heels echoing against the sleek floor as she pulled the blinds shut.
When she turned, Noah was watching her, his gaze intense. For a moment, she stood frozen under his stare. Then, before she could think twice, she crossed the room in swift, decisive steps and wrapped her arms around him.
Her good hand gripped the back of his jacket as she pressed herself against him. Noah didn’t hesitate—his arms came around her, strong and sure, as if to shield her.
“I couldn’t get through this without you,” he murmured against her hair, his voice rough with emotion.
Ruth tilted her head to look up at him, her lips finding his in a kiss that burned with all the fear, frustration, and longing she’d kept bottled up. His response was immediate, his hands tightening at her waist as he kissed her back with a fervor that left her breathless. For that moment, the rest of the world faded away.
When they pulled apart, his forehead rested against hers. “Rae,” he said hoarsely, “I didn’t do it. I swear to you.”
Her hand came up to his face, her thumb brushing along the line of his jaw. “I believe you,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her chest. “But you need to tell me everything, Noah. I can’t help you unless I know exactly what we’re up against.”
He nodded, his grip on her waist loosening just slightly. “I’ll tell you everything,” he promised. “But, Rae… you may be risking everything for me—your professional status and maybe your life.”
She shook her head firmly, her gaze locking with his. “You don’t understand. I’d risk everything for you, Noah.”
The conviction in her voice left him momentarily speechless. They stood like that for a beat longer before Ruth inhaled sharply and turned toward her desk. Picking up the phone, she dialed an extension.
“Kay, it’s Ruth Everhart. Is Mr. Ellison back from his function?” She listened, her eyes darting toward Noah. “Please fit me in for a client meeting. It’s urgent.”
She paced as she waited, the minutes dragging like hours. “Yes,” she said finally. “We’ll be there in a minute.”
Replacing the receiver, she looked at Noah, her expression hardening with resolve. “We’re going to see Blake Ellison. He’ll know how to guide us through this.”
As they stepped out of her office, Matt Brandt appeared from nowhere, his expression sharp and assessing. He moved to block her path, his hand hovering near her shoulder. “Ruthie, a word?—”
“Not now, Matt,” she snapped, sidestepping him without breaking stride. She boarded the up escalator to head to the penthouse offices.
He followed after her, his tone dripping with false concern. “You can’t just barge in on Ellison. He doesn’t have time for?—”
“He made time,” Ruth shot back, her heels clicking as she strode purposefully toward Ellison’s office. She felt Noah close behind Matt.
Matt’s brow lifted in disdain. “Everhart, you’re out of your depth,” he sneered. “You’re going to embarrass this firm.”
Ruth didn’t falter. “You can tell that to Mr. Ellison. He can make the choice if he doesn’t want me to handle this case. He agreed to see us. Now.”
Matt’s smirk faltered as he stepped aside. She didn’t wait for further comment, throwing the door open and striding inside Blake Ellison’s private waiting room with Noah beside her, ready to face whatever came next.
* * *
Noah stood just behind Ruth as Blake Ellison’s secretary gestured toward the door. “He’s waiting.”
Ruth knocked lightly, and a voice—calm, composed—called them in.
Blake looked up from his paperwork, his sharp gaze flicking between them. “Ruth,” he greeted, measured and neutral. Then his eyes dropped to the sling supporting her arm. “Your arm.”
“I fell on the ice.” She lifted it slightly, her smile easy despite the moment. “My cast is my newest fashion accessory.”
Noah barely heard the exchange, his focus narrowing when Blake’s attention shifted to him.
“Mr. Kandor.”
Noah hated that—Mr. Kandor—as if they were strangers. He let it slide.
Blake leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen against the desk in a steady rhythm. “I just had a conversation with Mr. Hayes. He’s running a loose ship. An anonymous tip, and those agents moved on you without any real investigation.”
Noah’s pulse kicked up. “Ethan? How did you know to call him?”
Blake’s expression didn’t change. “After Ruth called me about your arrest, it wasn’t hard to connect the dots. Agents don’t act on tips like this without a push from someone above them.”
Noah clenched his jaw. It was exactly what he’d suspected. Someone wanted him in that interrogation room, and they wanted it to look official. “Whoever’s setting me up isn’t finished,” he said grimly.
Blake gave a small, knowing nod, but before he could respond, the door behind them burst open.
Dylan Grant strode in like a storm rolling through, his expensive shoes sliding against the floor, his expression a mix of fury and disbelief. “Ruth,” he snapped, eyes locking onto her like a laser. “Matt filled me in. What the hell were you thinking?”
Ruth’s posture stiffened. “Excuse me?”
“You’re a junior attorney.” Dylan’s voice was low, controlled, but the heat in it was unmistakable. “You don’t just waltz in and take on a federal case like this. You should have gone to Matt Brandt for permission. There’s a way things are done here.”
Noah felt his blood heat, but he held his tongue, watching Ruth carefully. He knew her well enough to recognize the way her fingers curled slightly, the way she squared her shoulders—a silent do not test me warning.
But Dylan wasn’t done. “You are incapable of defending a high-profile federal case, and it’s reckless of you to think otherwise.”
Noah tensed his fists against his pants pockets. Ruth wasn’t incapable of anything.
Before he could say a word, a voice cut through the tension like a blade: “Enough.” Blake. His tone was calm, but the authority behind it was absolute. Dylan’s mouth snapped shut as he turned his full attention to his law partner, standing slowly from his chair.
“I appreciate your concern for the firm’s reputation, Dylan, but Ruth is more than capable of handling this case.” His voice was like steel wrapped in silk—controlled, but undeniable. “If it even becomes a case. So far, Mr. Kandor has only been questioned, and Ruth ensured his rights were protected.” He glanced at Noah. “He will sign a retainer, and we will bill him for three hours of time. If charges are filed, I will be her co-counsel.”
Dylan blinked, stunned. “You’ll—what?”
Blake didn’t flinch. “You heard me. Now, unless there’s something else, I suggest you move on.”
Noah watched, oddly satisfied as Dylan’s mouth opened, then snapped shut. With a tight nod, he muttered, “Fine, but, Blake, I warned you.”
The door clicked shut behind him, and just like that, Blake turned back to them as if nothing had happened. “Now, where were we?”
Noah exhaled sharply. “The situation.”
And he laid it out—the arrest, the interrogation, the anonymous tip, every piece of the puzzle that didn’t quite fit. Blake listened, his expression unreadable. When Noah finished, Blake leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen once more.
“We’ll need to cover our bases. Ruth, have Noah sign a retainer, and we’ll subpoena the phone records regarding the tip. Also,” he added, “see if you can get a copy of everything your brother-in-law is subpoenaing. I assume he’ll cooperate?”
Ruth smirked. “Ethan? He’s honest, and he likes Noah. He’ll cooperate.”
Blake let out a soft chuckle. “That’s something, at least.” His sharp eyes met Noah’s. “Mr. Kandor, we’re going to be here a while. Take a seat. Let’s run through everything again.”
Noah sighed. “This may be more than three billable hours.”
Ruth sat across from him, guiding him through the retelling. The pressure in Noah’s chest never fully eased, but at least now, there was motion—something real happening instead of just waiting for the next hit.
Then Blake raised a hand, cutting her off. “I’ll assist Ruth, but this is her case,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “She’ll set the fee, and you’ll sign with her.”
Ruth shook her head. “I’m not charging Noah a cent.”
Blake chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, young love. You two need to remember there are cameras and eyes everywhere.”
Noah didn’t respond. He knew better than to fight Ruth on this, but he also knew what was at stake.
Blake slid a document across the desk. “Mr. Kandor, your fee is one dollar. Sign here. It locks down the contract.”
Noah picked up the pen and signed, his grip a little tighter than necessary. “Thank you,” he said, the moment pressing in.
Blake didn’t smile. “Before you leave—my best advice? Don’t go home.”
Noah frowned. “Why not?”
Blake steepled his fingers. “If this is a setup—and I believe you when you say it is—then I seriously question your safety. You need to be cautious.”
Noah’s pulse ticked up. “My notes are in a safe location.” He tapped his head. He didn’t tell him Hilton’s thumb drive was in his pocket, and Alex was securing his briefcase with his written notes.
Blake exchanged a glance with Ruth. “Take time off work. And tell Alex Marcel to keep his distance. If someone is pulling strings, we don’t need another target.”
Noah exhaled, everything settling deep in his bones. He turned to Ruth, his voice rougher than before. “Rae, I’m so sorry.”
Her brows knit. “For what?”
His throat tightened. “You’re a target too.”
Blake stood, signaling the end of the meeting. “Alright. It’s late. Ruth, your client looks like he’s about to collapse. Get some food. Get some rest.”
Noah stood stiffly, exhaustion finally catching up to him. Ruth collected the paperwork and led him out of the office.
In the hallway, she glanced at her watch. It had been a long day. Then, she turned to him, eyes warm despite everything.
“Join me for dinner?” She batted her lashes dramatically.
Noah hesitated—then smirked, exhaustion be damned. “Yeah, I could use a good meal.”
She grinned, grabbing her coat. “Perfect. Let’s get out of here.”
* * *
The underground garage was dim, the overhead lights casting long, flickering shadows across the concrete walls as Ruth walked toward her car. Her heels clicked against the pavement, the sound steady and precise. She kept her stride purposeful, her breathing even.
Beside her, Noah was silent. She didn’t have to look at him to know his mind was spinning. He’d been through hell, and it wasn’t over.
As they neared her car, Alex was already waiting.
“Alex, I hate this. Until we figure this out, Blake suggests you keep clear of Noah,” Ruth advised, pausing as she reached for her keys.
“I figured. Ruth, I’ll keep an eye on your mom.” His voice was even, but there was something in his tone—something firm. He faced Noah. “Watch your back.” He sighed. “Let’s transfer your briefcase to Ruth’s car.”
Ruth shot Noah a glance. She knew what Alex was really saying: I’m worried about you. Keep your files close. You can’t risk them being anywhere else.
Noah didn’t argue. He knew.
She stepped aside as Noah and Alex unlocked the trunk and carefully moved the briefcase over. It was heavier than it looked—not only in weight, but in meaning. It held some of the leverage Noah had.
When the trunk clicked shut, she resisted the instinct to reach for Noah, to press a reassuring hand against his arm. He was still so tense, so tightly wound, and she wasn’t sure if he even realized how much of that tension was guilt. Not guilty of the crime, but of involving her.
Alex shook Noah’s hand and kissed Ruth’s cheek. “See you soon.” They watched him walk away.
“So, what are you in the mood for?” she asked instead, deliberately light. “As far as Pierre’s fine dining options go, we have… steak, steak, or more steak.”
Noah let out a chuckle—a real one—and she felt something in her chest ease.
“Steak sounds good.”
“Brayburn’s it is, then.”
The restaurant was warm, inviting, a stark contrast to the day’s events. Dark wood paneling, soft amber lighting, the quiet murmur of conversation all around them—it should have been relaxing. But Ruth could still feel the residual weight of the day hanging over both of them.
They slid into a booth near the back, and the moment they both exhaled—almost in sync—it was clear just how much they’d both been holding in.
“Insane day,” she muttered, adjusting her sling before reaching for her water.
Noah leaned back, loosening his tie. “Understatement.” His eyes flicked to her arm, and something shifted in his face. “I feel like a jerk for not asking earlier—how’s your wrist? Seriously.”
She shrugged, wiggling her fingers slightly. “It’s okay. Ibuprofen’s doing its job. Hurts less than the time Molly pushed me off a wall at our neighbor’s house when I was twelve.”
His frown deepened. “I don’t like when you get hurt.”
Her heart did something strange at that—an ache, unexpected and unwanted. She covered it with a teasing smile. “Occupational hazard. I’m a klutz, and I have four sisters.”
But she knew he saw the flicker of something deeper beneath her words. He always did.
The waiter arrived, setting down their plates—medium rare for Noah, medium for her. The scent of seared steak and butter filled the air, but Noah didn’t immediately reach for his knife. His focus stayed on her.
“What about your day?” he asked, finally picking up his utensils. “Before things went to hell with me. You didn’t get a chance to tell me.”
Ruth snorted softly, spearing a piece of asparagus. “Before hell? Oh, just another circus in the courtroom. I spent the morning convincing a jury to drop a ridiculous drug case.”
“Did they listen?”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course. They charged this kid, probably thinking he’d flip on someone bigger. But all he did was buy two Percocet. Two. And turns out, they were laced with fentanyl. He’s lucky he didn’t take them.”
Noah winced. “Yeah, younger cops sometimes jump the gun. Eagerness is good until it isn’t.” He shook his head. “Speaking of young cops, Alex had to step in and fix one of our newer colleague’s prep for the grand jury. Some real rookie moves.”
She dipped the edge of her popover in some gravy. “The FBI agents. Were they rookies?”
His brow creased. “They were both in their thirties, best I can tell. But their questions felt… programmed. The same ones, over and over again. And Ethan—he seemed truly surprised. Something was off.”
She studied him, raising an eyebrow. “You know, I’m technically one of those young people Alex, and now you, are always griping about. I’m only twenty-six.”
Noah tilted his head, a slow smirk forming. “Rae, you’re an old soul. Smarter. Dynamic. Just… different.”
The warmth that spread through her was immediate. She bit her lip before looking up at him. “Noah, are you sure you want to date me?”
His knife paused mid-cut. Slowly, deliberately, he set it down, leaning forward. “Yes, Rae. I do. I want you.” His voice was low, steady. “But I feel horrible because I can’t get you out of my mind. And that scares me.”
She set her fork down, her eyes locking onto his. “Why does it scare you?”
His exhale was slow, controlled. “Because I’d hate myself if something happened to you. I worry I’ve put you in danger. And I’ve never felt this way about a woman before.”
Her chest tightened. “I wish I could take that feeling away. But you scare me too.” She hesitated, then reached across the table, her small hand resting over his. “You make me feel things I’ve only dreamed about.” She squeezed his fingers lightly. “And as I’ve proven, something can happen to me just walking across my driveway.”
“I know,” he said quickly. “But I brought this mess to your doorstep. They already killed a witness, Rae. And now I worry I’ve made you and Alex—and maybe even your family—targets.”
Her jaw tightened, but her gaze stayed soft. “You didn’t put a target on us, Noah. That’s on them. Not you. My dad was a firefighter. My mom was a cop. Olivia is one too. Dangerous things happen no matter what we do.”
He muttered something under his breath, pushing his steak around his plate. “Tell that to my conscience.”
She tilted her head, voice quiet but firm. “You’re not doing this alone. You have people to lean on.” She squeezed his hand again. “I’d hope you’d lean on me.” She smirked. “Though, at your size, I may fall over.”
His lips twitched into a faint smile. “Maybe I should tie you to your bed in your apartment. Keep you where I can protect you.”
Her eyes widened, and she nearly choked on her drink. “Excuse me?”
He waggled his brows, his grin mischievous. “What? It’s a solid plan. Strategic. Effective.”
“You’re impossible.” She shook her head, but the warmth in her chest was undeniable.
His hand lifted hers to his lips, his touch lingering. “I care about you, Rae. I want this—us.”
She swallowed, her fingers tightening slightly. “I want this too. But if we’re doing this, you have to trust me to handle myself. This doesn’t work if you’re constantly scared of what might happen.”
He nodded slowly. “I’ll try. For you.”
She smirked. “Good. Now eat your steak. You’re not leaving here without finishing it.”
Noah chuckled, shaking his head. “Bossy.”
“You’re catching on.”
For the first time all day, the tension began to lift. As they ate, laughter replacing exhaustion, Ruth couldn’t help but think—maybe they’d be okay.
* * *
Their conversation flowed, a rhythm forming as laughter replaced tension. Their day melted away, leaving only the warmth of shared moments and the flicker of something deeper growing between them.
Noah, cutting into his steak, savored a bite before he said, "Okay, I’ve gotta admit—this steak might be the best I’ve ever had. How’s yours?"
Ruth nodded, her fork poised over her next bite. "It’s really good. Perfect sear, just the right amount of seasoning... I might have to ask the chef for tips."
Noah lifted his chin. "You’re going to try to recreate this at home?”
Ruth grinned. "What, you don’t think I can handle it? I’ll have you know I’m pretty decent in the kitchen."
Noah raised an eyebrow playfully. "You’re probably good in every room.”
She turned beet red. “Noah…”
He burst into genuine laughter. “You walked right into that.” He wiped his lips with his napkin, catching his breath. “What’s your signature dish?"
Ruth paused, her color returning to normal. "Pasta. Simple, classic, always a crowd-pleaser."
"Now that I have to see." His eyes locked on hers.
Ruth leaned in slightly. "Well, maybe you will. But only if you’re lucky."
"Oh, I’m feeling pretty lucky already." He matched her tone.
They both paused, their eyes meeting over the table. There was a moment of quiet, comfortable connection before Ruth broke the silence. "You’re smooth. I’ll give you that."
Noah smiled, shrugging. "Smooth or not, I’m just saying the truth. Dinner with you makes this steak taste even better."
The waiter passed by, refilling their water glasses. Noah gestured toward Ruth’s plate with a smile. "You’re slowing down. Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who never finishes their steak."
Ruth narrowed her eyes playfully. "I always finish my steak. Just pacing myself. You should try it sometime instead of inhaling yours."
His hand moved to his heart. "Inhaling? This is called enthusiasm, Ruth. I’m a passionate eater."
Ruth’s cheeks began to pink again. “You are passionate.”
"Absolutely. It’s a lifestyle."
"Well, Mr. Passionate, you’d better leave room for dessert. I saw a chocolate lava cake on the menu with our names on it."
"Hmm. There is something else with our names on it.” He looked at her like dessert.
The evening air had turned sharp and cold when Noah and Ruth stepped out of the steakhouse. The golden warmth of the restaurant vanished behind them, swallowed by the dark chill of the night. Ruth walked a few steps ahead, her heavy wool coat swaying as she moved, her breath misting faintly under the parking lot lights.
Noah trailed behind her, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. “Hey,” he called, voice low and amused. “Even after my day in detention, I’d still rather be me than those two idiot FBI agents when Ethan gets ahold of them.”
Ruth turned slightly, smirking over her shoulder. “Oh, sure. You just love collecting enemies, don’t you?”
“Better than being boring,” he replied, matching her pace. Then his tone shifted, quieter but edged with that familiar cocky warmth. “Besides, I changed my mind.”
Ruth slowed to a stop, turning fully toward him. “About what?”
Noah stepped closer, his voice dropping to something sensual, smooth and warm against the cold air. “About going home. About packing up and heading to some safe house.” His emerald eyes locked on hers, his meaning clear. “I don’t want to waste tonight, Rae. I want you to take me to your place, grab a few things…” He tilted his head slightly, a faint, confident smile softening his words. “Then we’ll head to a hotel out of town, so I can make love to you.”
For a moment, Ruth’s voice failed her, his words leaving her breathless. She cleared her throat, cheeks flushing as she shook her head and pulled her key fob from her coat pocket. “You’re?—”
* * *
The night shattered.
The explosion came first—a thunderous, gut-punching BOOM that ripped through the quiet, so violent it stole the air from Noah’s lungs.
Then—fire.
A wall of heat and force detonated outward, swallowing Ruth’s car in an instant. The impact tore her off her feet, her coat catching the brunt of the blast as she hit the pavement hard. The sickening crack of her head against the asphalt cut through the roar of the flames, her limbs going limp.
Noah, only a step back, had just enough time to twist away, bracing instinctively. The shockwave slammed into him, hurling him into the side of a parked SUV. Pain flared through his shoulder and down his side as metal bit into his back, but adrenaline blunted it. He hit the ground with a grunt, momentarily stunned, ears ringing violently.
Smoke and fire filled the air, the acrid smell of burning rubber clawing at his lungs. Blinking through the haze, Noah forced his head up, his heart lurching as his eyes found Ruth. She lay sprawled on the pavement, too still, her coat burning, streaked with soot and ash.
“Rae!” Noah’s voice was hoarse as he staggered to his feet, his ribs screaming in protest. The ground trembled under him as flames erupted higher from the wreckage of her car. The fire roared with a hungry, unnatural fury, bright and blinding.
A deafening crack split the air as the blast ripped through the parking lot. Noah flinched as a wave of heat seared across his skin, debris scattering like shrapnel. The flames devoured metal and glass, leaping hungrily to the next vehicle.
This isn’t over. Something in his gut screamed, more blasts are coming . He pushed through the pain, stumbling toward Ruth. Smoke curled around her, turning her skin too pale. But her chest was rising, barely moving—she was alive.
Move. Now.
Noah dropped to his knees beside her, batting at the flames licking her coat. “Rae. Hold on.” His fingers burned, but he didn’t stop until the fire was out. Too close. Too damn close.
A third explosion erupted behind them.
Noah hunched over her, shielding her body with his own as debris rained down—glass and metal, slicing across his hands, cutting into his shoulder. He barely felt it. She wasn’t moving.
Come on, come on, come on.
He pressed two fingers to her throat. There. Pulse. Weak, but there . His breath shuddered out. She’s alive. But not safe.
Another car groaned, fire licking at its undercarriage. The next blast was coming. Seconds—maybe less.
Careful. Focus.
Moving deliberately, Noah slid an arm beneath Ruth’s shoulders and carefully shifted her body. His training from long ago kicked in—pure instinct. He took care to keep her spine aligned as he moved, cradling her head gently and dragging her in line with her body, not twisting or bending her limbs. Every motion was calculated, trying to spare her further injury.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, even though his pulse pounded in his ears. “Stay with me, Rae.”
A fourth car went up, the shockwave slamming into his back like a hammer. Noah staggered, nearly dropping to one knee, but he didn’t let go.
“You’re okay,” he muttered, his voice shaking. “You’re going to be okay.”
Around them, the sounds grew louder. “Don’t move her!” someone shouted from somewhere behind him, but Noah ignored it. Whoever was responsible for this wasn’t done yet. This wasn’t just an accident. This was a message.
“You’re okay. We’re almost clear.” He dragged her farther from the explosions.
Smoke curled around them, thick and choking. The acrid stench of burning tires clawed at his lungs.
Behind them, a fifth car exploded, the blast so loud, it reverberated through his skull. The flames were spreading like wildfire now, leaping hungrily from one vehicle to the next.
Sirens wailed, growing closer. The fire blazed brighter, filling the night sky with angry black smoke. But Noah didn’t look away from Ruth.
His legs burned, his lungs screamed, but he kept moving. Kept going. He dragged Ruth past the line of fire, past the wreckage and the twisted metal and the ruin of the night. His arms shook as he finally sank to the pavement, his grip unyielding.
“You’re not leaving me that easy,” he murmured, a broken laugh slipping out. “I’m way too stubborn for that.”
The night burned behind him, but all that mattered was the woman in his arms.
He reached the edge of the parking lot, finally hitting clear pavement. The flickering glow of the fire behind them lit up the night like a hellish inferno. Noah stopped for only a moment, his breath ragged, his hold on Ruth unshakable.
Red and blue lights slashed through the smoke. Sirens howled.
Whoever had done this had failed.
And Noah would make sure they didn’t get another chance.