Chapter 34
Thirty-Four
R uth drifted between sleep and wakefulness, her body heavy, her mind foggy. But something pulled her back—a feeling. It was quiet. Not the usual craziness of the hospital. Noah’s hand wasn’t wrapped around hers. This was stillness.
She shifted slightly, her limbs weak. She wasn’t alone. There was someone in the room.
She took a slow breath, forcing her voice past the dryness in her throat. “Noah?”
The typing stopped immediately. Then, a quiet exhale. “He’s finally asleep.” Paul’s voice. Steady, relieved—exhausted.
Ruth’s brow furrowed. Asleep? She swallowed. “Where are we?”
Paul shifted. “A safe house. Middle of nowhere.” A pause. “You’re safe, Ruth.”
Safe. The word felt foreign.
“Ruth, I’m going to swab your lips.” He swiped her dry mouth.
“How long have we been here?”
“Three days. I’m going to take a listen to your chest and check your vital signs.”
She nodded. His touch was gentle as his stethoscope pressed against her. “What were you doing?”
The mattress dipped beside her. “Trying to figure out why Hilton gave Noah the drive.”’
An envelope flickered in her memory. Her brows fretted. Noah never showed her the thumb drive.
Ruth’s stomach twisted. “Hilton. The witness Noah was protecting.” She swallowed hard. “And?”
Paul sighed. “Noah got into the thumb drive Robert Hilton gave him. The files show every bribe, every hit, every deal Maxim Fairchild made. But that’s just it. There’s nothing here that explains why Hilton ran.”
Ruth frowned. “What do you mean?”
Paul exhaled sharply. “Hilton was an accountant. He knew where the money was going. He had been handling dirty transactions for years. So why now? Why turn on his employer? And why give the drive to Noah?”
Ruth’s breath caught slightly. She assumed Noah had been targeted. That Hilton had sought him out for a reason. “What if there wasn’t one?”
Paul continued, “Noah wasn’t picked for a reason. He was just the person available when Hilton needed to talk.”
Ruth’s mind churned. No connections to Fairchild. No strategy. Just random luck. Hilton walked into that office and picked Noah because he was there.
Paul sighed. “That means this wasn’t planned.”
Ruth swallowed. “Then what was it?”
Paul was quiet for a long moment. Then: “A desperate move.”
A chill ran down her spine.
Hilton was running from something. And Noah was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Ruth’s breath shook slightly. She turned toward Paul’s voice, her expression tight with realization. “Hilton gave Noah this drive for a reason… My guess, he couldn’t find a buyer.”
Noah had the drive. And that meant they were all in danger.
“Ruth, I don’t want you to worry. Let yourself rest. We are safe here.” Paul tucked the blanket around her. He lingered, his hand resting on the edge of the mattress.
“You sound exhausted.” Ruth sighed.
“A little tired,” he admitted.
Finally, she heard him pull the chair closer to her bedside and sit down. His breathing changed as sleep claimed him.
* * *
A sharp cry shattered the silence of the house.
Noah jerked awake, disoriented for a moment before his eyes focused. He ran for Ruth’s room.
Paul was leaning over her. “Ruth, wake up.”
Ruth was thrashing, her face twisted in fear. “No!” she cried, her voice breaking. “No, no, no!”
“Rae!” Noah was at her side in an instant, his hands gently gripping her shoulders as Paul stepped aside. “Rae, it’s me. It’s Noah. You’re safe.”
Her eyes flew open, wide and unfocused, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She blinked rapidly, her head turning as if trying to make sense of her surroundings. “It’s dark,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I can’t… I can’t see. Where—where am I?”
“You’re in your room in the safe house.” Noah’s voice was steady and calm. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hands still on her shoulders to ground her. “You’re safe, Rae. I’ve got you.”
She clung to his voice, her hands reaching out until they found his arms. Her fingers gripped him tightly, her breaths uneven. “The explosion… it—it was so loud. I felt it. I couldn’t move.”
“It was just a dream.” Noah’s heart broke at the fear in her voice. “It’s over, Rae. You’re here now. You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Her grip on him tightened as she shook her head. “It felt so real. I could smell the smoke, feel the heat. I—I thought I was dying.”
Noah slid closer, his arms wrapping around her trembling form. “You’re alive,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You survived. And I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
She buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt. “Don’t leave me,” she begged, her voice muffled. “Please, Noah. Don’t let go.”
“I won’t,” he promised, his voice breaking. “I’m not letting go.”
He held her as she cried, his hands stroking her back in slow, soothing circles. Her sobs gradually quieted, replaced by soft, shaky breaths. She clung to him like a lifeline, her fingers digging into his arms as if afraid he’d disappear.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely.
Noah pulled back just enough to look at her, though her eyes remained unfocused. “For what?”
“For falling apart,” she said, her lips trembling. “For being weak.”
“You’re not weak,” Noah said firmly. “You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. You survived something most people couldn’t, Rae. And you’re still here, still fighting. That’s not weakness. That’s strength.”
Her chin quivered as another tear slipped down her cheek. “It doesn’t feel like it.”
“Maybe not now,” he admitted. “But it will. And until it does, I’ll remind you as many times as you need to hear it.”
She rested her head against his chest again, her body slowly relaxing in his arms. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For being here. For not giving up on me.”
Noah pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “Never. You don’t have to do this alone, Rae. I’ve got you.”
As her breathing evened out and sleep began to reclaim her, Noah stayed where he was, holding her close. His own fears threatened to overwhelm him, but he pushed them aside. Ruth needed him, and he would be there for her—no matter what it took.
* * *
Daylight spilled through the frost-covered windows of Maxim Fairchild’s study. The blizzard had passed, leaving behind a frozen world that mirrored his cold determination. He stood by the fireplace, sipping a steaming cup of coffee, his mind churning with plans. The cleanup from the storm had delayed his operations, but it wouldn’t hold him back for long.
He had guns to move, payments to process, and his new state landscaping contract to leverage. The money flowing in from that deal would elevate his empire to unprecedented heights. He chuckled, the sound low and menacing, as he imagined the state’s Department of Public Works unwittingly funding his empire.
But one problem remained: the bombing that injured Ruth Everhart and Noah Kandor. It was sloppy, reckless, and brought unwanted attention to his carefully orchestrated plans.
Fairchild growled under his breath. If the state’s attorney handed Noah’s investigation to his partner, things could spiral further out of control. He needed answers, and he needed them now.
He grabbed his phone and dialed Dylan Grant. His phone was dead—not even voicemail. He bit back his temper. He dialed the switchboard at Ellison & Grant. “May I speak with Dylan Grant please?”
“Sir, are you a client?” the receptionist asked.
“Yes,” he answered impatiently.
“Sir, I’m going to connect you with Mr. Ellison’s secretary. Please hold.”
“Blake Ellison’s office, Kay speaking. How may I help you?”
“Kay, this is Maxim Fairchild. I’m a client of Dylan’s. What’s going on?” he demanded.
She inhaled deeply. “Mr. Fairchild, I’m sorry to inform you Mr. Grant was found dead this morning. Mr. Ellison is taking over Mr. Grant’s clients.”
“Dear God. How? He always seemed so healthy.” Maxim began to sweat.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not permitted to disclose any private information. We will post his funeral arrangements when we know.”
“Thank you, Kay. As soon as I put my thoughts together, I’ll call for that appointment.”
He hung up. His heart was going to explode. Dylan knew the extent of his crimes. Did he tell anyone?